


Escape

by reddogf13



Series: Escape series [2]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Escape, M/M, Mount massive, WaylonXEddie, eddie gluskin - Freeform, murkoff, outlast - Freeform, outlast whistleblower - Freeform, the groom - Freeform, waylon park - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 67,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2564237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddogf13/pseuds/reddogf13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waylon has been re-submerged into Murkoffs horrible tests and tortures, but insanity can never be controlled and once again mount massive is in chaos. what happens though when Murkoff decides to start Walrider from the ground up? Waylon realizes his time is on the clock and must escape. in his condition he'll need help, and there's only one who mite give it. WaylonXEddie</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Isolation

*Morning of December 4th*

Waylon slowly awoke, shaking a bit from the cold. That was the only bad thing about the vents, the cold breeze that went through them. Stretching a bit and yawning, he opened his eyes but quickly closed them as the Morphogenic Engine threatened to burn across his eyes again. He kept them tightly closed until he was sure the horror flashes had vanished from his vision. He slowly opened his eyes again and sat up in the large vent, sighing. He took a pin he had kept and carved another line into the metal vent wall, adding another tally mark to all the ones scrawled across the metal. The tallies reminded him of how many days he spent in this hellhole of an asylum. He had no idea how he managed to survive through all of this madness.

The computer technician had set up a little home in the large round vent. He had gotten a thin blanket from the storage and found a guard’s backpack to carry things that were necessary for his survival, but also other stuff that he deemed important. He grabbed the backpack and pulled out a small bag of jerky he had made a few days earlier and started to eat. Waylon always hated how the jerky was so plain, but he knew how lucky he was. Not everybody had access to food in the asylum. He’d be damned if he let himself turn to cannibalism, or eat his own flesh, like some of the patients were doing. Making a face, he shook his head and decided not to think about it as he was trying to eat.

After finishing, he took out a thick journal from the bag along with a pen before putting on the backpack and heading down a vent. He crawled through vent after vent until he made it to a cell block area. He sat down in front of a vent opening and watched the patients below.

“Patient 114565679, still seems to be eating himself. Arms almost completely gone from rot and being eaten.’’

’’Patient 113694513 … still bashing his head.” Waylon thought as he watched and wrote the observations down.

“Why do I even do this? It’s not like it’s going to help anyone. Is it even helping me?” Waylon thought as he continued writing. After five hours had passed, he finished writing down all the patients’ actions and headed off to the next cell block to do the same to the patients in that area.

After visiting all the blocks and areas to write observations on patients, he noticed that it was late afternoon already and decided to take a break and eat some more jerky.

“Andrew is not in his usual area today. I hope he’s not messing with more of my vents.” Waylon growled a bit to himself. The vents were the key to Waylon’s survival. Without them, he’d be long dead. Andrew knows this, and being a smart man who still has some sanity and logic left, he makes sure to guard and ruin the vents he gets his hands on in hope of catching or trapping Waylon. Waylon made a face.

“Only one more observation left.” he said to himself and took a deep breath. He had to observe Gluskin. Although Waylon wanted to stay on the farthest end of the asylum to avoid him, he thought it was better to actually be aware of where the crazed man was wandering, even if he didn’t seem to wander far from his area. Waylon slowly navigated to the Groom’s area and looked through the open vents. He couldn’t see him in the first vent, nor the second, nor even through the fifth one. That worried him, he should have seen him by now.

“Did he leave? Finally snapped because of Andrew? … I can only wish ...” Waylon thought.

“He must be following the vents by now. He must have heard me!” Waylon panicked. He looked around tried to see if the man was in any shadows nearby.

“Nowhere...” he whispered. Waylon was anxious now, where could he have gone?

He went down a vent and looked out of an open spot. The vent led out to the main middle area hallway.

“Make sure neither Gluskin or Andrew are here.” he thought and opened the vent. He made sure that most of the vents were open just in case of emergencies. Waylon looked out and down the long hall. Nobody but a few rotting bodies.

“I never thought I’d get used to rotting corpses, or the smell...” Waylon thought as he quietly got down into the hall. He went up to the large caged doorway.

“Still closed...” he thought.

He walked up to the door and froze. There the Groom was, a little down the way from the door. Waylon stayed frozen staring at him. Gluskin was looking up through a vent, probably in an attempt to catch Waylon crawling through it. Looks like Andrew wasn’t the only one who was on to him...

“He hasn’t noticed me yet.” Waylon thought as he started to take steps back. Before he could even set his foot down, Gluskin’s attention was brought to Waylon by the small movement. Waylon froze again and his eyes went wide. He stared at him with his green eyes and Gluskin stared back with his icy blue ones.

“I have a head start, and the vents are nearby.” Waylon thought, not breaking the eye contact or daring to move in the slightest. The stare lasted a couple of minutes before Gluskin’s attention was grabbed by something else opposite to where Waylon was. Waylon saw his chance and bolted back into the vent and quickly closed it back up. Taking deep breaths, he tried to prevent his body from violently shaking.

The shaking became worse when a horror attack started, the images from the Morphogenic Engine flashing in his sight and causing him to panic.

“No, stop!” Waylon growled through gritted teeth and grabbed his head, trying to stop the pain in vain. The screeching, buzzing noise got louder and louder and his brain felt as if it was on fire as the noise got louder in his mind. He shut his eyes tightly as the bright images started to flashed, making him feel sick, like he was dying. He started to breath harder, afraid that he was going to suffocate soon.

The buzzing died down as the images stopped and Waylon felt like he could breath normally again. He took some deep breaths and once he was ready, he went back down the vents towards his little “home” inside the vents, where the feel of the chilling breeze on his skin would comfort him and make him feel safe, or as safe as you can be in a place like Mount Massive Asylum.

“Almost there...” he thought as he walked. He stepped onto a certain vent panel and stopped when it made an unsettling groan of bending metal.

“That never made noise before.” he said to himself. Pushing on the panel to test it, he thought about what options he had and the risks of each one of them. The panel made creaking noises with each push, but it seemed like it could handle his weight.

“Maybe I should go a different way?” he thought, but quickly dismissed the option. “No, I am exhausted, it’s getting late, and the vents will be way too dark to navigate through in an hour. I don’t have time to go a different way.” he thought and took a step forward. The panel seemed to support his weight just fine and he felt confident enough to continue. When he reached the third panel, it collapsed. Waylon landed onto the hard wooden floor with an echoing thud and soon after, he heard what sounded like pins dropping. He looked beside him and saw a perfectly good vent screw rolling next to him.

Waylon gave a confused look at it before his shirt was harshly grabbed and he was yanked off the floor. He looked in front of him and just as he saw Andrew’s face, it was quickly gone from view as he received a punch in the face. He dropped to the floor and felt his skull smash on the wood. His vision was spinning and he tried to get up.

“Oh no, you’re staying down.” Andrew said with a kick right to Waylon’s ribs. Waylon let out a gasp and cough as the wind was knocked out of him and he rolled onto his chest. As he tried to breath, he tasted something coppery. He saw blood dripping down to the floor and off his face from his nose. Waylon struggled and pushed himself to get up.

“Come on, dammit!” he cursed angrily at his uncooperative body. Andrew yanked him up by his back collar.

“I have experiments saved for you. It was just a matter of time before I caught you out of those stupid vents.” Andrew said as he started to drag him away.

“No!” Waylon yelled and punched Andrew in the face. Waylon began pulling back and struggling, hoping to free himself from Andrew’s firm grip so he could run. He wasn’t a good fighter, but if he was released he’d be sure to escape.

“You little fuck!” Andrew cursed, throwing a punch at Waylon’s face again, then his gut. Waylon’s air was pushed out of him and he got knocked down to the floor. Even with his bad arm, Andrew could still coordinate it good enough for a hard punch. Waylon spat out some blood and started to hyperventilate as images from the accursed engine began to burn his eyes and mind at the worst possible time.

“No! Not now, not now!” Waylon growled. Andrew laughed and smashed his boot down his head. After his skull hit the ground, his body couldn’t take another hit, and he finally blacked out.

*Hours passed*

Waylon slowly opened his eyes, trying to ignore the pain pulsing through his skull. As he tried to reach up and touch a sore spot on his face, he realized that his arms were restrained. He looked down to see what his condition was.

He was strapped tightly to a gurney in a dark room. He saw some movement out of the corner of his eye. Straining his eyes to see more clearly, he caught Andrew humming to himself in the corner with a bunch of candles nearby, with a dimly lit one right above him. He seemed to be mixing chemicals in a boiling pot. Next to the stove he was working on was a large jug-like container that had a hose going out of a cap on it. Connected to the cap was a huge needle. The jug was stained with old dry crusted blood.

Waylon took a deep breath. Andrew hadn’t seen him awake and it might give him some time to plan his escape. He looked around and immediately spotted a sharp piece of metal on a table next to him. It looked like some sort of makeshift dagger, jagged metal with a weird string wrapped “handle” of sorts. Waylon shifted on the gurney a bit so his arm could hopefully reach far enough to grab it.

“Thank god.” he thought when he felt the cold metal on his skin. He quickly began to try and cut the thick straps. He stopped though when he saw what little progress he as making. Cursing to himself, he tried to think of another idea. He moved the blade under the buckle latch and slowly got it up, making the strap loose. He freed his hand of the strap and started to untie the other. He pulled the other strap away a bit too quickly and caused the dagger to hit the gurney. The hit made a loud noise as well as forced the knife up a bit in Waylon’s hand, having the jagged handle slice it. Waylon let out a hiss of pain and dropped the knife in reaction, creating more noise. Andrew turned and saw Waylon untie the last few straps. Andrew’s formerly calm and relaxed face turned furious, and he grabbed a nearby large hypodermic needle that was as thick as a quarter and as long as a foot. It looked filled with something thick and dark. Waylon swore it was Black Tar by the way it looked.

Waylon frantically ran from the room as soon as he was free, grabbing his bag on the way out. He quickly glanced at his surroundings as he ran, working to get his bearings on wherever he was in the asylum, to find the closest vent. He spotted one further down the hall and made it his target. Andrew was getting closer looking about ready to kill Waylon when he’d catch him. Waylon made it to the vent and sighed a breath of relief when he finally managed to climb up in time.

His relief was short lived, gone after he realized what was in the vent. It was blocked with barb wire, broken glass, a dead bloody body and the smell of an extremely harsh chemical. Waylon was frozen in shock, his escape was blocked and he was cornered. Basically killed by what he thought was his safe haven.

Andrew grabbed Waylon’s leg from the vent and yanked him out. Waylon grabbed onto the vents edge and struggled to break free from Andrew. He WILL get away in this vent, even if he had to beat his way through barb wire, a dead body and hold his breath through the entire way.

“Think I wouldn’t block the damn vents, when I had to get my personal lab rat out of them?!” Andrew mocked and stabbed the needle deeply in Waylon’s leg, injecting the thick sludge into his leg.  
“Ah, fuck!” Waylon screamed. He could feel the sludge burning like fire as it slowly crawled up his legs and into his flesh. Waylon took a deep breath and yanked his bad leg forward before smashing it into Andrew’s chest. It was both a good and bad idea. The needle in his leg shredded open a gaping wound from pushing against it, but at least Andrew was knocked to the floor, giving Waylon time to escape. Waylon got down from the vent, yanked the needle out, having it gush black sludge from the end, and ran for his life. His leg was killing him. It felt like being on fire or sitting in acid. The running was forcing both blood and sludge to seep from his gashed leg.

He looked around desperately for a vent. Not catching a sign of one, he decided on going through a door instead. He didn’t care what was behind that door. Not anymore. He was getting away from Andrew. He ran through a door, then another, and another, feeling like it was more of a horrible maze now with no sanctuary in sight. He bolted through one more door which led to an open hall. Waylon didn’t slow down until he got to a more familiar part of wherever he was.

Lots of shelfs tightly placed next to each other, from wall to wall, with one long pathway up the middle of the room. Waylon slowly walked, catching his breath a bit. The shelfs contained things from books and files to random objects like chairs, cords, and large machines. Waylon wasn’t sure, but he was dreading this place. Something was off and it made him terrified. There was no predicting what could happen, nor who would pop up at any moment. He slowly walked down the middle path, being as aware as he could of his surroundings. He looked back every so often to see if Andrew would be there. When he turned his head for the fourth time, he noticed something.

“Vents!” Waylon thought, looking up at them with pure happiness for such a plain and simple thing. His happiness turned slowly to dread as he recognized the vents and remembered exactly where he was.

“Gluskin... I am in his area.” he thought, having trouble swallowing the small amount of spit he had after being so dehydrated. He slowly looked down and looked around, no movement, no sound, nothing. That’s what scared him the most, Eddie Gluskin was perfectly silent.

“WAYLON!!!” he heard a voice roar from behind and echo through the place. His head whipped around in horror and saw Andrew charging him.

“Shut up you idiot!” is what Waylon wanted to yell so desperately at Andrew. Gluskin was now sure to know that he had visitors.

“Well, no holding back now. If I just run I can make it to the exit on the other side and get into the vent near by.” Waylon’s mind quickly blurted out ways to escape in fear. In a flash he was running, looking around everywhere to make sure nothing would suddenly grab him from the side.

A few feet from the door, his bad leg gave out. Waylon crashed into the door and quickly looked at his leg. Blood was pouring from the wound, looking like it was mixed with black oil. Only now did he notice the blood trail he was leaving. He yanked the door open to run out, but Andrew had caught up and grabbed the back of Waylon’s collar, yanking him back and slamming him back into the cage door and closing it. Waylon turned around to fight Andrew, only managing to dodge his needle from stabbing into his side. As Andrew yanked the needle back, ready to attack again, some of the black tar sludge splattered onto Waylon’s face, burning it. He hissed and grabbed Andrew’s wrist to make sure that his needle wouldn’t stab him again.

He was in a really tough spot. His back against a cage, which was also his only way to escape, a crazy doctor with a poisonous needle, and with poison coursing through his leg and bleeding out through a gash… and now, there was one more thing to add to the list.

Waylon’s chest felt like it caved in, stopping his heart and lungs when he saw the man walk up behind Andrew. Those icy blue eyes burned into his own as he looked over Andrew’s shoulder. Everything seemed to go in absolute, unbearable slow motion. He walked up close behind Andrew, lifting up his hands. He had a cable wrapped around one to the other and in a quick movement wrapped it around Andrew’s neck and yanked him off of Waylon.

Andrew’s attention was soon off Waylon and he went into panic as he recognized his attacker. He hastily stabbed the needle into Gluskin’s arm, but the act didn’t seem to affect the man much as he continued dragging him back. Andrew fought Gluskin in frenzied and panic induced attacks, punching and clawing in a desperate attempt to escape. Gluskin snapped and gave the punches back, slamming his foot down on Andrew’s leg, breaking it backwards with loud sickening cracks.

“Gluskin’s goal isn’t to kill Andrew right away.” Waylon thought, before he decided to just bolt out.

Waylon fled out the door and into a vent. Once he was safe, everything seemed to be on fast forward and that overloaded his brain. The flashing images from the Morphogenic Engine went crazy on his brain and in his eyes. He doubled over in pain and somehow managed to keep his stomach in check through it.

After the pain died down, Waylon slowly made his way back to his small little home in the vents. All during the little journey Waylon could hear Andrew’s screams echo through the vents, making him feel as if he was right there, watching Andrew go through God knows what. However, he didn’t feel any remorse for Andrew. Not with all the shit he put him through. After finally reaching his home, Waylon just collapsed onto the thin blanket and passed out from pain, exhaustion, and illness.

Andrew’s screams echoed all night and Waylon knew that from constantly fading in and out of sleep, sometimes seeing nightmares of him screaming as Gluskin mutilated him. It was afternoon when Waylon had fully awaken. He stretched and immediately regretted doing so when the large gash in his leg reminded him of it’s existence.

“Dammit, I need to get to the infirmary. I need antibiotics, alcohol, and gauze... and get a better look at my damn leg.” he thought, trying to get a close look at the wound. The vents were dark and it was hard to see how bad the damage was, but he sure as hell could feel how bad it was.

Waylon was still wearing his pack and just had to start navigating the vents. About an hour of navigating, he later made it to the small hospital. He opened the vent and looked around.

“Nobody, great.” he whispered to himself and jumped down, feeling a shock of pain in his leg and falling over when he landed. He hissed in pain and slowly stood and limped over to a table with a bright white light over it. He sat in a nearby chair and held up his leg, turning it to see the large festering gash on the back.

The wound was stained black, looked infected and already rotting with thick yellow pus.  
“Fuck...” Waylon thought as he examined it. “I’ll have to cut all this rot off. This better not fucking cripple me.” he thought looking around. He got up again and limped over to the cabinets and started digging around in them. He found most the stuff he needed to clean the wound, alcohol, gauze, stitching wire, a needle, and some duct tape. He started cleaning the wound right away. First, he cut away all the black rotting meat, then he carefully poured some alcohol on the wound, creating a violent reaction when it touched any of the black tar left in the wound. Not to mentioned that it caused so much pain that Waylon’s eyes started watering.

He let out multiple curses as he quickly cut away those bits as the tar turned into an acid-like substance in reaction to the alcohol. His fingers were burnt a bit from it, but his leg was now clean and disinfected. He sighed and started to stitch the wound, wrapping it in bandaged and later covering it with duct tape.

Once the leg was wrapped, his next goal was to find antibiotics. Who knew if even one pill still existed in the facility. Patients pretty much raided anything medicine or drug-like, even this little place seemed to have had a hurricane through it.

He looked around until he found a locked cabinet.  
“Medicine in here?” he thought. He grabbed a nearby broken pipe and put it behind the rusted chain and lock. He pulled back with all of his weight until the chain snapped, almost causing Waylon to fall back and unto the floor. He opened it and found prescriptions organized in small boxes. He opened almost all of them before finding a small bottle covered in dust. He popped a pill before going back into the vent.

He paused for a moment, looking down a vent way as he realized that it was the one that led to the Groom’s area.

“Should I go look?” he thought with deep and quick breaths. He wanted to go, to see what happened to that “doctor”. What torture he must have went through all night. How Gluskin treated his visitors.

Waylon walked, getting both nervous and excited as he got closer and closer. He looked out the vent. “No Groom in here.” he whispered to himself, slightly relieved. As he looked for Andrew’s body, he caught a large blood stain on a wall, with a big puddle of blood in the same corner, Waylon went to a different vent to see it at a better angle. It was just a large mess of blood and leading to it was a large dragging blood smear. Inside the smear were hand prints that looked like someone had desperately tried to claw at the ground. Waylon’s eyes followed the trail to where the cage door was.  
“That blood wasn’t spilled ‘til after I left.” he thought. The blood led outside, which meant Gluskin had gone out and could still be outside. Fortunately.

Waylon followed the vents to the hall and looking out the vent, gasping. There Andrew was, hung up from the roof, over the floor railing, with his body spread open like a dissected frog. Cords had been sown through his skin, and attached to wooden support poles to keep it stretched and spread open. His organs were hanging out or falling to the floor. Waylon didn’t know what he expected to see when he decided to look for Andrew, but he certainly wasn’t expecting this...  
“Was he still alive when this happened?” he thought. “Probably, he was still struggling while being dragged.” he thought. He was about ready to leave when he noticed something. Andrew’s neck was left mainly untouched, besides some strange cuts. They looked like words. Waylon got closer to the vent and focused on the area, hoping to see what it was. No luck.

“If only my fucking camera worked. … I’ll have to get out.” he thought. He slowly opened the vent and carefully looked down the halls. Nobody. At least, he was sure there was nobody. He took a deep breath and jumped down, holding in a hiss of pain as his leg ached. He looked towards Gluskin’s door. Andrew was hanged right in front of it. Waylon took quiet breaths and quietly peaked in past the door.

“No movement or sound...” Waylon thought. He walked up to the body, trying to keep an eye on the door behind him. He looked up at the body and saw what was carved deeply into Andrew’s neck.

Just above his collar bone, ’‘Waylon’’ was carved across his neck.

Waylon’s stomach dropped and he felt sick.

“An image of future events if I am caught?” he thought. Then another thought crossed his mind. “Andrew’s shouting was probably the first time Gluskin heard my name...” he thought before going back to the vent. He went back to his home and quickly fell asleep.

*Late night*

Waylon was awoken by the distant sound of rapid gun fire. His curiosity and paranoia took the best of him and he decided to get up and find out what was going on.

“Is Murkoff really going to try and get a grip on the asylum again?” Waylon thought.  
“They really can’t be that desperate and insane to keep this place running after two breakouts...” he thought. Deciding that it was best to leave his back pack in the vents, he headed out on his way. He went through the vents and made it to the hall, next to Gluskin’s door. The whole floor was buzzing with panic. Patients were running everywhere looking for a place to hide.  
“What’s going on?” Waylon thought. His attention was soon turned down the hall as he heard the shooting noises again and could see the small flashes out the large windows at the end of the hall.  
A bright flash of fire appeared, filling up the window with light, making the sound of a loud explosion, like a firework going off. The whole hall turned a red/orange hue. Another little explosion was heard and seen from the window. Waylon heard a few more go off in different directions around the asylum.

“Setting the place on fire?!” Waylon thought in panic. He did not last this long to just burn alive. He hopped down to the floor, not minding most of the patients as they were too busy panicking. He ran as fast as his injured leg allowed him to and went out a window to climb up a drain pipe. It was a bit difficult with his injured leg, but he had to see. Finally managing to get himself up, he stood and watched as a very distressing image played out in front of him

A wall of fire surrounding the entire grounds of the asylum. Behind it were Murkoff soldiers, shooting at anyone trying to flee past the fire. Ashes were coating the building and the grounds like snow, some hot ashes burned Waylon’s face as he watched the scene. The night sky was dyed a grayish red as the bright blazing fire flashed.

“What’s happening..?” Waylon thought, an empty feeling forming inside him, like he was trapped and slowly dying. “... No escape...” he whispered, the feeling of dread overpowering his body. This feeling had once again triggered the Engines image and the bright flashing of swirling fire made it worse. Waylon screamed in agony and held his head as the screaming/ buzzing noise assaulted his brain and the flashing images burning his eyes. He couldn’t hold it in and continued to cry out in agony.

The noises and images suddenly ended as a new, stronger sensation hit him. Real pain and the feeling of warm blood. Waylon grabbed his left side and pulled his hand away, he was shot, and could see blood dripping off his hand.

He looked around, shocked, and took a step back, accidentally tripping, falling, and smashing through the tired roof. He fell until he hit a hard wooden floor. He let out screams of pain, too exhausted to do anything. He stayed still on the floor, feeling it cool his skin from being out and letting the heat of fire burn on him. He stared up at the roof, looking at the open hole in it now. His vision began to slowly blur and grow dark. Waylon growled, shaking his head a few times, trying to regain control of his eyesight or at least sit up, but his body was losing too much blood, and he was in an unbelievable amount of pain.

He tried to focus on the broken roof again but a silhouette of someone blocked it. He glared at the silhouette, unable to determine who it was, before he finally blacked out.


	2. Acknowledgement

*2 hours later*

Waylon slowly opened his eyes, his vision twisting the world around and spinning it. He closed them again in a vain attempt to prevent extreme nausea and tried to grab his bearings, wondering where he was. He moved his hand slightly and felt fabric underneath him. He slowly opened his eyes again. It was a mattress and out of the corner of his eye he could see a dark reddish brown stain under his side. He began turning his head to look more clearly at it, then froze when he saw that a shadow looming over him had moved slightly. Someone was standing behind him.

Waylon stayed silent and still waiting for a reaction from the owner of the shadow behind him.

“Maybe they didn’t notice I moved?” he thought, refusing to move. “Is there a vent somewhere?” he thought while looking for an escape route.

His concentration on escape was broken when he heard the owner of the shadow begin to hum to themselves.

“That song...” Waylon whispered quietly to himself in realization with bile threatening to rise as memories of it flashed in his brain. The horrific images from the Engine sparked in front of his eyes in a bright flash. Waylon took a quick inhale, shutting his eyes tightly, and held his breath to keep from screaming. The images disappeared and Waylon reopened his eyes and quickly looked to the direction of the humming, noticing that the shadow had moved. From the shadow’s head angle, it looked like the person was looking at him.

Waylon held his breath while mentally preparing his body to either run or fight for his life. The shadow stared at him for a moment and then turned away, to Waylon’s relief, and continued his humming, to Waylon’s horror. The person started walking around, creating muffled boot steps on the thin carpet the floor was covered in. Waylon listened carefully to keep track of how far the person was going.

He let out a quiet sigh and slowly looked over his shoulder to see if he could still see him. Seeing no one, Waylon slowly got up. He let out a hiss of pain as his side protested against the movement. He looked down at his side, noticing that his shirt was stained with dried blood. He lifted his shirt up and saw a hole with stitches on it. Waylon remembered that he was shot there last night. With his injury he had to be careful when moving or accidentally rip the stitches open. When he was fully standing he quickly looked around.

He was at the opposite end of Gluskin’s wing, the farthest Waylon could be to a safe exit. There was an exit nearby, but no vents, forcing Waylon to have to navigate the halls until he could reach one. With a deep breath he started to sneak to the nearby door.

He nervously looked around as he walked, keeping quiet and listening for any other noises like foot steps or the creaking of floor boards. He looked behind him anxiously as he reached out and opened the door. He nervously stepped out into the hall, making sure to close the door quietly.

He looked down the long hall that was still illuminated with yellow from the burning flames. The flames could no longer be fully seen through the windows since they had died down a bit.

“What did they burn?…I should go to the vents but…I have to go see.” He thought. He needed to know what was going on. That is the reason why he seemed to live so long, that and his use of the vents. His observations of patients and the building’s structure had saved him so many times before. Even when the “doctors” talked carelessly around him, those conversations had helped him greatly.

He walked up to a dirty window, wiping away a smear of dust and whatever else coated the window glass. Looking through the clear smear, he frowned. He could barely see past the window, and the bright glare from the fire didn’t help.

He looked back at the door to make sure no one followed him. Seeing no one, he turned his head and looked down a nearby hall.

“This way leads to the staff area. I should be able to find and use a vent up to the security watch tower. That thing is tall enough for me to see from.” he said quietly as he sneaked down the long hall. Every now and again Waylon would look behind him out of paranoia. Nothing was ever there, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Waylon jumped at the sound of a loud creek behind him. He looked down the black shadowed hall in silence. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as he saw movement in the shadows.

Out of the shadows extended a bloody hand to the wall, dragging one leg, and holding one hand to there stomach. The figure slowly made its way towards Waylon, holding onto the wall, leaving behind bloody hand prints and smears.

“Park...” the voice said, giving a feeling of dread and sickness. Waylon’s eyes went wide as he saw the figure show themselves.

“Andrew...” Waylon said in horror. Andrew smiled at him with a grin full of blood that dripped from his mouth. His organs were falling from his body to the floor, dragging behind him, leaving a long bloody trail in his wake.

Waylon took a step back, feeling his stomach threatening to come up on him. Before it could, though, his eyesight turned to dark static and warped flashes of blood and violent images. He screamed in pain while grabbing his head and shaking it in an attempt to rid himself of the images.

When they finally vanished, he looked back towards Andrew, finding no sign of him, not even blood.

“A hallucination?” He said, panting and shaking with fear. “The Engine is getting worse.” he thought as he breathed heavily. He slowly got down to the floor, leaning against the wall. He felt sick and needed to sit and clear his brain. His chest heaved a bit as he tried to hold in sobs.

“Why me? How could this happen? What did I do to deserve this? What did any of us do?” he said towards the floor. “Am I in hell? Is that it? Is this punishment for something I did on Earth?” he said as a few tears fell to the floor. He took a couple of deep breaths and regained himself.

“I don’t have time for this. I have to see… to escape.” he said. “I will not die here!” he yelled angrily. “I will escape, no matter what. If I die, I’ll die off the damned land of this place. Past the fences. I won’t care how I die then. Killed by Murkoff security or ripped apart by a bunch of crows, I don’t care. As long as it’s off this unholy place and outside...” He muttered to himself.

He hissed at the realization that his side was in pain. He lifted up his shirt and looked at the stitches. The stitches had held together, but he started to bleed through the reopened wound from stressing it. He sighed and rubbed his head and tried to stand up and continue his walk.

*half an hour later*

Waylon kicked the vent open, wincing from the strong pain in his bad leg and his side. He knew he should be going easy on them, and climbing up vents to kick them open definitely wasn’t helping.

He climbed through the opening and went to one of the metal doors and pulled it open to walk out onto the metal balcony rounding the tower outside. He looked to the outside of the asylum grounds and stared in shock.

The surrounding forest was fully burned to the ground, only ashes and burnt black trees laid on the area. Murkoff staff were wandering around, kicking up red embers and packing things into vans and trucks.

“Why burn the forest?” Waylon thought. “So when they burn the place, the fire wouldn’t spread?” He thought with a look of confusion.

He was startled when the sound of a voice came over a loud speaker. Waylon immediately recognized the voice and gave an unhappy scowl of utter hatred towards the sound.

“Dear patients of Mount Massive, I unfortunately have to inform you that project Walrider must be restarted. Do not worry though, we’ve set up… arrangements, for you. So for now, I must ask of you to stay on Mount Massive grounds or else be executed by Murkoff security. Until arrangements are complete, please, stay inside.” The microphone blared loudly in Jeremy Blaire’s voice.

“Fuck that.” Waylon said with a glare. He shivered a bit at the cold air and looked off the balcony and around the asylum grounds.  
“This place is huge. There has to be an exit! A weakness, an emergency exit, loading area, anything!” Waylon said. He paced around the railed balcony scanning over the vast building and layered fences.

He stopped in his tracks as he spotted something in the distance. A large crippled fence and mass of blockage leading into the mountains. It also looked to be crossing over a river.

“No way they could have installed the electric fence over there. The river alone being nearby would short circuit the entire thing so often. Looks like they tried to block it with junk.” Waylon thought as he examined the spot. He felt excitement grow in him, he had found an actual place to escape through.

Then reality came crashing back down on him. The opening of his escape was on the exact opposite end of the asylum, the farthest place it could be. A 1,080 foot long building of pure unknown hell between him and his escape. Not including the multiple floors he might have to go through.

Waylon stared into the distance, feeling the cold air blow on him. He leaned over the railing with a defeated sigh and rested his forehead against the bar.

“No way I’ll make it through all that. I’ve never left my area, who knows what’s farther in this decrepit building, the vents going farther are blocked or destroyed. I’ll have to go on foot. Not like I can go around outside either with the electric fence separating the yards.” He said.

“What would I do any way? I’d have to stock on food, and who knows how much time I have before the “arrangements” are done. And it’ll probably take me a week, maybe two weeks to navigate through all of this.” He continued and raked his hand through his short brown spiky hair. “And between my injured leg and the Engine’s effects, there’s no chance for me if I am attacked… unless I get help?” Waylon thought, raising his head back up.

“No, there’s no one here to help me. Others are either injured, sick, or not mentally stable. Not to mention no one really reacts well to any strangers.” He said. “And I’d need someone who could defend me as well as themselves. No use wandering with someone who would quickly die in an emergency. There’s no one like that around here.” Waylon thought. His brain started to nag him as he knew there was one person.

He shook his head as the thought nagged at him.

“No, I cant use him. I don’t know what could happen, he’s unstable, and I won’t be able to fight him off if he tried something. If he wants me to be a ”bride” again, I don’t think I’ll have a lucky escape like the last time. He wouldn’t take me as lightly as before.” He said and began to pace. “Then again, who knows what I’m going to face out there. What if there’s something worse then him...? Pff ... there’s a thought.” Waylon said to himself. He rubbed his face with his hands.

He was in denial of the suggestion his brain gave and continued to tell himself he could just do it alone. Although, deep in the recesses of his brain, the small amount of sanity he had left refused to accept that answer.

“Fuck!” He yelled and punched the nearby brick wall, quickly regretting the action as he held his hand in pain with a hiss and felt the stitches in his side yank. He sighed in frustration and laid his forehead on the brick wall.  
“I really hope he doesn’t hold grudges.” He said while letting out a long breath.

“Well, I could at least prepare before talking to him. Best to leave as soon as possible if he goes after me.” Waylon thought as he went back into the building and headed towards the open vent.

For the next two days, Waylon woke up and went straight down the outside vent pathway. Outside, Waylon patrolled up and down the electric fence, grabbing as many rabbits, gophers, birds, and other animals he could find to eat. He did this all day, collecting animals and bringing them to the roof to dry the meat into jerky. He made sure to get as much moister out of the meat as possible so they may possibly be ready the next day.

“I hope this food will be done by next afternoon. I really don’t want to face him at night. At least the sunlight through the windows give some false sense of security.” He thought as he examined all the meat pieces. He raked his hand through his hair.

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this...” He said, looking towards the night sky. ”But I have to, I just can’t die here. Murkoff won’t stop me, though, they are the least of my worries right now.” he said. “Please Lisa, wait for me, I’ll be free soon.” He said to the sky.

*the next morning*

Waylon woke up in his vent and stared at the metal top. His gaze wandered down to the side, looking at all the carved in tally marks for the days that he was trapped there.

“Today’s the day.” He thought, rubbing his eyes. He sat up, grabbing his bag to put it on. He grabbed his thin blanket and stuffed it into a small pocket on the bag.

He took a deep breath before going down the vent that led outside. When he got over Gluskin’s area he looked down into the wing. He saw no one, just old shelfs with old storage and a very large old blood stain from Andrew. He took a deep breath before continuing through the vent.

He popped the large vent cover off and got onto the roof. He set the vent cover down next to the vent opening before standing up straight and taking a deep breath of air. The fresh outside air was always better then the thick air inside that smelled of rotting wood, blood, and mildew.

He walked over the roof, looking out at the area where the Murkoff staff were. They were all gone, leaving old tire marks and foot prints. At the top of the roof, on a flat concrete area, there was a long piece of plastic that covered a large line up of different sized thin shreds of meat.

Waylon looked at it and removed some heavy books that kept the sheet weighed down. He didn’t leave the meat out in the open, fearing that birds might steal them, even if he never saw birds flying over the place. He looked at the pieces, making sure that they were fully dried and done. Almost all of them were, the few larger pieces still needed some time. He threw away the unfinished pieces, seeing as he wouldn’t be back, and packed all the finished ones into a few plastic jars.

After packing the dried meat he thought it was best to replace his leg bandages. He undid the duct tape and removed the bandages and there was an immediate smell of rotting meat.

“Dammit, the cleaning didn’t fully work.” Waylon thought, squeezing some yellow thick pus from the wound. He opened his bag and took out the cleaning supplies. He pushed and cleaned out all the pus he could before pouring alcohol on it. The alcohol burned and Waylon made a hissing noise when it touched the wound. He dried it and re-bandaged it. As long as he kept it clean and bandaged it, it might eventually heal. He grabbed the small pill bottle he took earlier and popped one of the pills in his mouth.

He let out a low growl before getting up again and leaving to the vent. He stopped in the vents over the Groom’s area and looked around at the wing.

“He still hasn’t shown up.” Waylon thought as he looked through all the vents.  
“Nothing...” he said quietly after looking through the last vent. He continued on to the open vent leading to the hall. He jumped down, wincing when his leg stung and left a bad ache in it’s wake.

He looked at the fenced door in silence and then looked towards Andrew’s still hanging body. He began feeling sick and light headed at the thought of walking through the door. He took a deep breath and swallowed his stomach down before taking a step. He took another step and another, and another, before reaching the door.

He looked through the door and listened carefully. No movement, no sound, no nothing.

“Quiet...” he thought and took a silent breath. He apprehensively reached for the door handle. He noticed his hand was uncontrollably shaking and he grabbed his arm to make it stop. It didn’t help. The Engine started to burn at the back of his skull again and Waylon shut his eyes.

“I need to keep calm...!” he thought and grit his teeth. He took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes again. He stared at the handle. “Easier said then done...” His mind mocked. He reached out again and turned it with another inhale of breath.

It opened with the sound of a click and the door creaked open. Waylon stood in front of the doorway, inhaling deep breaths and continuously swallowing down his stomach. He stepped into the door way and looked into the room. His body tensed up at being in the open and his instinct to run was drowning his brain.

”Deep breaths... There’s an escape route nearby...” Waylon thought to try and calm himself down. His brain thought differently with his bad leg and stitched side. He took a few more deep breaths while inching against the wall. He scanned over the shelf’s in front of him, looking for any movement, and looked towards the door, noticing small amounts of blood trailing on the wall.

Waylon looked down at his side, confirming that the blood was his. His side had reopened from stress again, causing some more blood to leak.

“I really don’t need this...Not now..!” he thought looking back up to rescan the room. Still no movement. Waylon was thinking of saying something, he couldn’t just stand here all day in silence.

He took a breath and opened his mouth to say something, but his voice was caught in the back of his throat. He closed his mouth, letting out a sigh of annoyance, and looked at the ground. The Engine started burning again in the back of his skull. If he stayed any longer under this stress it would begin to effect him. He took a few deep breaths and looked up to try and say something again.

He lost his voice entirely when he heard another speak from behind him.

“A guest? How lovely.”


	3. a Dark guardian

Waylon froze up at the voice, feeling sick as memories flashed by in his brain. He looked back at Eddie, trying to seem calm. Inside, he was fully panicking. He didn't expect Eddie to appear behind him, or to be between him and the escape route.

"Why couldn't he just appear in front of me, like all the other insane people?!" Waylon thought.

"Why the pleasure of a visit?" Eddie asked as he watched Waylon intently. Waylon took a silent, deep breath.

"I came here for you." Waylon said. He regretted saying it like that, but it was the only thing he seemed to be able to say at the moment.

"Why is that?" Eddie said, taking a few steps closer. Waylon swallowed hard. What should he say?

"To talk of our relationship." Waylon said. He hoped he'd buy it.

"Our relationship? You left me impaled on a lead pipe!" Eddie said with a look resentment and disbelief. He took a few aggressive steps towards Waylon. Waylon counteracted with a few steps back. He wanted to be sure to keep an equal distance away from Eddie.

"Wewerejustmovingtoofast." Waylon blurted out in panic.

"Too fast?" Eddie scoffed.

"Yes. I just panicked a bit. We were moving too fast and I needed to slow down. You know marriage can be a big commitment... and all." Waylon said beginning to feel nauseated at his words. Eddie was silent for a moment.

"Yes... we were moving a bit too quickly. Weren't we? Marriage can be a lot of pressure on a woman..."

" …Yeah." Waylon said, unable to think of a "proper" reply.

"Shall we get married now then?" Eddie said, coming closer again with a large grin.

"No!" Waylon shouted in fear and stumbled back a bit. Eddie stopped and looked at him with aggravation.

" …No … I do want to marry you, but I don't want to get married here. I want to get married far off the grounds. Where we can't even see this place." Waylon said, trying to be as specific as possible so Eddie wouldn't mutilate him right out the front door. Eddie paused again.

"Hm, I can agree with that... I wish to be married as soon as possible... but you're right, it can wait until we're away from this god awful place. It wouldn't be right to have our first lovely memories of being together in this place." Eddie said, gesturing to the dark room with anger. Waylon let out a very quiet sigh of relief. He might be safe… for now.

"Exactly, and I know how to get out. I would just like you to escort me out, then we can get off the grounds and get married." Waylon said, putting on a fake small smile.

"Very well. I'll escort you out, dear. Then we can start our life together." Eddie said with a large grin. Waylon nodded, feeling some slight relief that his story actually worked.

"Where do we head?" Eddie asked.

"Um...we need to get to the first lobby, then cut through the yard to get into the building next door, and we'll go on from there" Waylon said pointing in the direction. Eddie nodded.

"Ladies first." He grinned at Waylon and stepped aside for him. Waylon held in the shiver that shocked up his spine at that moment. He looked at Eddie then the door and, as calmly as he could, walked towards it. They walked out the door and started down the hall towards the first lobby.

"With all the blockages and locked doors, we probably wont make it there 'til early next morning." Waylon thought as they walked. He was pulled from his thinking when Eddie started humming that dreadful song. Waylon began feeling nauseous again. He couldn't let Eddie sing that the entire way. What little sanity he had left would just die a sickening death.

"You know, we should save that song for our wedding. So we don't get sick of it." Waylon said, pausing quickly to swallow his stomach.

"...True." Eddie said going silent again.

"Thank god..." Waylon thought.

Waylon walked and turned left down a bright window-lit hall. he stopped in his tracks at the sight of other patients with his tall shadow slightly covering them. He froze as the patients glared at him and slowly began moving towards him. He was about to step back when a larger shadow easily loomed over him and his shadow. The glare from the patients turned to pure terror and they fled like cockroaches in sudden light.

Waylon was about to run himself when he remembered that the shadow's owner was escorting him. He heard a deep chuckle behind him and swore he felt the vibrations of it go through his ribcage. Waylon took a deep breath before continuing down the hall.

"Well, there's one of the good perks of having Eddie. He has a reputation on this floor. so everyone will be sure to be terrified of him." Waylon thought. "Once we leave the area though, that won't help." he thought as he turned down another hall.

"You know, I've recently realized I've never gotten your name. I guess I was just moving too fast and was too excited to really catch it." Eddie said as they walked.

"Um, it's Waylon." he said. Eddie probably knew that already, but Waylon thought it was just best to "play along".

"Lovely name." Eddie said. "Do you know mine?" he asked.

"It's Eddie, right?" Waylon said.

"Yes, good." Eddie said with a slight nod.

Waylon paused for a moment as he waited for some decontamination doors to open. He stepped into the doorway and when he did, he noticed something odd, Eddie didn't follow. Waylon looked back at him with a look of curiosity and confusion. Eddie actually looked nervous and was hesitant to enter.

"We have to go through." Waylon said, looking at Eddie. Eddie examined the door frame before slowly following in. they stood in the middle of the small chamber. When the doors shut and the gas was released, Eddie jumped, causing Waylon to jump in reaction to Eddie's sudden movement.

"Why is he afraid of this?" Waylon thought. It took him a minute to realize that the chambers meant something different to each of them. To Waylon, they were positive, knowing they killed disease and germs, while to Eddie, they were negative, they were just another unknown door leading to horrible experiments and abuse. When the doors opened, Waylon was sure to get out of it a bit quicker. Eddie still looked a bit nervous when he was out, but soon calmed himself.

They continued their path down different halls and through multiple doors. Eventually it had gotten late. The building was dark, besides the moonlight coming through the dust littered windows. Waylon was exhausted from walking all day and half the night, but refused to sleep.

"I can't sleep, not around him. But I might be traveling for a week. I can't just not sleep, just stay up 'til I black out in front of him?" Waylon thought, rubbing his head to try and stay awake.  
"Maybe I can just sleep every other day? Tomorrow, I'll sleep." Waylon thought. They walked for two minutes or so before Eddie spoke.

"You look tired." he said. Waylon didn't answer, he didn't want to answer, he just wanted to keep walking in silence.

"You should rest." Eddie said. Waylon shook his head.

"I am fine." he said, not looking at Eddie. Barely a minute of silence passed before Eddie lightly grabbed Waylons collar and pulled him towards a different direction. Waylon panicked a bit and tiredly struggled before just letting himself be pulled.

"Here." Eddie said, stopping him in a room with some old beds. "You sleep, and I'll watch the doors." he said before leaving. Waylon sighed and glared at the now closed door. He really didn't want to sleep, now he was forced to.

"Whatever, as long as he stays out of the room." Waylon thought and went to the bed farthest away from the door. He sat on the old bed, which made a long creek from his weight. He tossed his backpack to the end of the bed before laying on it like a pillow. He looked back at the door in paranoia before fully laying down to sleep.

Waylon slowly awoke, although still feeling exhausted, as his body tried to warn him of something.

Someone was touching him. Waylon opened one of his eyes, not even fully registering why he was. Eddie was leaning over him and had his hand on Waylons exposed side, with his shirt being up. Waylon panicked and jumped away, only managing to flail off the bed and onto the hard floors with a thud.

Eddie took a calm step away from him as Waylon quickly got up and adjusted his shirt back down. Waylon was breathing a bit hard and looked at Eddie with a questioning glare.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to make sure the stitches were holding well." He said with a calm demeanor and a smile. "I wont bother you again, just sleep." he said while leaving.

Once he was gone, Waylon raised his shirt to look at his stitched side, trying to make sure Eddie didn't just carve his initials somewhere as an "early wedding gift". Luckily, there was nothing, and the stitches were holding fine. They had finally closed enough that they were less likely to bleed out again. He let out a nervous sigh as he looked up to the door again.

"Why the fuck does he have to be as quiet as a mouse when sneaking around." Waylon said quietly to himself. He sat back on the bed watching the door. After a moment of thinking, Waylon decided it was best to go back to sleep. Eddie wouldn't let him leave and it was still very late in the night. Though he definitely wasn't sleeping on the bed this time, he was sleeping under it.

"If Eddie wants to do something, he'll have to drag me out first." Waylon thought as he shifted underneath the bed, avoiding the sharp springs above him. He slowly went to sleep with his head on his back pack.

*Early morning*

"Darling… darling …"

Waylon heard a voice calling and he looked to the side of him towards the sound. Waylon saw Eddies face looking at him. he was startled from him being so close and jolted up, accidentally hitting his head on the bed. he laid his head back down to rub away the pain.

"What?" Waylon asked, looking at Eddie.

"It's morning. Time to get up." he said before standing up from leaning down on his knee. Waylon rubbed his head more as a headache formed.

"God, I hope this goes away." He thought as he got out from under the bed with his bag. He walked out the the door seeing Eddie standing, to the right of it, waiting for him. Waylon looked at the dark windows, seeing through them that the sky was a deep blue of early morning.

"What time is it?" Waylon said, raking his hair back.

"Not sure. It just seemed good to wake you early. since you wanted to get to the lobby pretty quickly yesterday. Is that alright? Or should you sleep more?" Eddie said.

"No…no, it's fine." Waylon said, he really did not want to have a repeat of last night. He raked his hair again. "Let's just go." He said. Eddie nodded and followed.

They walked down a few long halls, going around a few blockages, and reached the second floor of the main lobby. Waylon looked towards the stair case and glared as he saw a lock on the staircase door. Eddie noticed.

"So, how shall we get down?" he asked. Waylon was unsure so he didn't answer. His only plan was to use the stairs, most of them were open. Waylon walked up to a large hole in the floor.

"Maybe we can jump down?" Waylon said, looking down through the hole. The floor was at least ten feet down. "Maybe not. My bad leg won't take that well." Waylon said to himself.

"What if we jump down here?" Eddie asked, looking out a window. Waylon went over and looked out himself. Underneath the window was some rotten looking crates that were piled next to a large ditch of water. Waylon examined the boxes, noticing that there was no way that they could hold any weight.

"No, the boxes would break." Waylon said.

"So? There's water nearby, just fall into that." Eddie said.

"No, we can find a different way." Waylon said.

"You don't even know if there is a different way." Eddie said, calling Waylon out on his lack of navigation.

"There has to be one, now come on." Waylon said turning to walk away.

"Do you have something important in your bag?" Eddie asked suddenly.

"Yes…?" Waylon said, confused at the random question.

Eddie grabbed the top of Waylons bag and yanked it off of him.

"Hey!" Waylon said as he turned swiftly to try and grab his bag back. Eddie tossed it out the window and Waylon watched as it hit the dirt outside, stirring up dust. He stared at it in shock, all his stuff was just taken from him. His medical supplies, his food, and his camera.

"Do you still want to go back?" Eddie said in a proud tone of his achievement.

"Why'd you do that?!" Waylon asked in shock. Of course he didn't want to go back now. He might if the camera wasn't in the bag. He couldn't just leave that, even if it was just a scrap of junk now. Waylon had grown to think of it as his life charm. If it was lost, he'd die.

"Well, if there's something important in it, you'll be willing to get down. Will you not?" Eddie said with a grin. Waylon looked at him with a glare.

"Ladies first." Eddie said. Waylon looked out the window down towards the boxes and took a deep breath before getting out the window.

He landed down on one of the boxes. He flinched as he prepared for the box to fall under him. Miraculously, it held while letting out groans and creeks under him. Waylon started climbing down the boxes, being careful where he stepped. He made it to the last crate and just had to jump to the nearby dirt ledge.

He took a leap and landed on the edge. The dirt was wet and loose easily crumbling as he landed. The dirt broke underneath him, having him fall into the deep black water.

He gasped for air as he reappeared above the dark surface. Waylon was always a troubled swimmer and his body was panicking. He tried climbing or grabbing the dirt side, but it broke too easily. His body panicked more as the engine started to lock up his body. His chest tightened, he felt sick, images of blood instead of water went through his eyes.

He began to thickly cough and gasp for air as the water slowly drowned him. Just as he went under again he was grabbed by the collar and yanked from the water onto the dirt. Waylon hacked and choked out water that invaded his lungs a few seconds earlier. He held his head as the engine slowly flickered away from his eyes.

"Are you alright, darling?" Eddie asked in concern while rubbing Waylon's back. Waylon coughed a bit before speaking.

"Yeah..." he breathed heavily while still coughing.

"Here." Eddie said handing Waylon his back pack. Waylon happily grabbed it and held it to his chest.

"I'll be fine. I have my camera back." Waylon thought as he calmed down.

"Can you stand?" Eddie asked. Waylon nodded and slowly began to get up, then stopped when he felt a familiar pain in his leg.

"Damn, my leg and side stitches are probably filled with disease and bacteria. Who knows what's been in that water. Probably bodies and dead rats." Waylon thought. He sat back down and lifted his soaked pant leg, looking at his bandage. Waylon started undoing the duct tape bandage and looked at the wound. It was healed slightly and Waylon hoped that the disgusting water wouldn't set it back.

"When did that happen?!" Eddie asked with a mix of concern and anger.

"This happened with Andrew." Waylon said as he grabbed his blanket from the bag to dry off all his stitches.

"Who?!" Eddie pressed for more answers.

"He's the one you hanged in the hall." Waylon said as he poured alcohol on his leg and side stitches.

"Oh... perfect then." Eddie said becoming calm again and grinning. Waylon rebandaged his leg and popped another antibiotic. He stood up with a hiss at his stinging leg.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"Yeah. It'll be fine." Waylon said as he put on his bag.

"Do you know which way to go?" Eddie said as he looked towards the starting maze of fences. The outside was thick with fog that only gave five feet of visibility around them.

"Sort of. I know where the building door is and the general direction we need to head in." he said and walked into the maze.

"Hm." Eddie said as he followed.

They both walked through the maze, going through gate ways and passing body's near or on the fences. Some of the body's were shredded to pieces and most looked like they had been partially eaten. The two had been walking silently until Waylon heard Eddie speak something odd.

"looks nervous."

Waylon raised an eyebrow, in a questioning expression, and looked at Eddie over his shoulder.

"I am not nervous." Waylon said as he walked.

" I didn't say anything." Eddie said seriously as he glared in a certain direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, i didint expect so many comments. thank you all. =]


	4. One step forward

Waylon stopped as he was alerted that Eddie had not spoken. So who’s voice was it? He looked towards the direction Eddie was glaring at, trying to see what he might have seen. The fog was too thick for Waylon to see far past the fence next to them. 

Waylon tried to think of what could be out in this area, then it hit him.

“Area B... the other twin...” Waylon whispered in shock to himself. 

“What?” Eddie asked.

“There used to be two patients that were twins. During the riot a while ago one of them died. The other twin that had survived became extremely unstable without his other half. Hes been hunting around this area...” Waylon said in fear.

“Stupid! How the fuck could you forget?!” Waylon screamed at himself in his mind. Eddie took a few steps to get in front of Waylon.

“I am going to lead.” Eddie said in a serious tone. Waylon knew Eddie wouldn’t take a no, and he didn’t mind it that much. Waylon told him which direction they should head for and they began to walk. Like before, Waylon noted how silent Eddie could be when walking. Eddie being quiet made Waylon feel like he was the loudest thing on earth. It was like trying to sneak into your parents house at night and every creak seemed like an air horn.

Waylon began to notice that Eddie kept glancing over his shoulder to look at him. It made him nervous, like something was going to happen to him.

“What?” Waylon whispered to Eddie, as he looked over at him for the fourteenth time.

“You’re shaking.” Eddie said to him, not even whispering. Waylon looked down at his arms, seeing that he was shaking horribly. From all the adrenalin in his system he hadn’t noticed that he was shivering, covered in goosebumps and his skin was numb from the cold. Waylon crossed his arms in hopes that he’d stop and gain feeling in his hands again. His soaking wet clothes had developed slight frost on them as it was early in the morning. It was quick to form on cold surfaces.

Both of them stopped at the sound of footsteps shifting the gravel in front of them.

“Can you run?” Eddie asked Waylon.

“If I need to.” Waylon whispered.

“Stay here. I'll go ahead.” Eddie said as he continued forward. Waylon's stomach dropped at the thought of being left alone in a barely visible environment.

“No! We should just stay together! We can go straight towards the way to the entrance door.” Waylon whispered with panic and a tinge of anger. “And what if he finds me alone!?” Waylon added.

“Just call me. I'll return to you.” Eddie said looking back at him as he faded from Waylon's view. Waylon just watched, unsure of what else to do. He stood there for a moment, thinking, and weighing his options. He could continue on and find the door. Go and find Eddie, or just wait for him to return. Waylon thought the first one was his best. 

“I can't stand here. I need to get out of this area before becoming another body added to the pile.” Waylon thought as he walked. Any noises he heard caused him to pause in paranoia. After pausing for the fifth time he decided to bring out his camera. He looked at the, what used to be silver, dirt coverd camera with a mangled screen and missing lens.

The sadness of seeing his camera this way brought Waylon's panic down. He felt such disappointment in himself for allowing Murkoff to take and destroy his camera this way. Jeremy even allowed Waylon to witness the destruction of the memory card that held all of his recordings. The collecting of documents didn’t help either, he only helped Murkoff recollect what was lost. Waylon's deep thinking was interrupted by panic as he heard footsteps coming alarmingly close to him. He turned his head to look back.

There was a figure walking towards him. Too short and too buff to be Eddie. The figure stopped and stared once it noticed Waylon in the fog. Waylon stared back, unable to move, like a deer in headlights. Waylon's mind was quick to notice certain details on the man. Lots of blood, a weapon in the hand, and the smell of rotting meat old blood coming off them.

His senses were getting overloaded and the engine kicked in. First, there were flashes of bright red and blood, then flashes of maggots eating raw and bloody mutilated bodies. The visions only got worse. Him being gutted with his organs spread onto the gravel. His spilled organs turning into mutated rats that then began eating him alive.

The man laughed deeply. It saw Waylon as just a lamb for slaughter. The man walked towards him picking up speed when he did. Waylon's frozen body screamed at him to run as it realized it was going to be attacked. He broke from the engine and bolted, running blindly into the maze of barb wire topped fences.

He didn’t know where he was going, turning left and right, then he stopped. A dead end.Waylon looked at it in horror. He looked back, searching for the man's figure. He couldn’t see him, but he could definitely hear him running in his direction. He began to break down, the engine starting to flash into his vision again.

“No, no, no, no.” he repeated in his mind, trying to fight the flashes away while desperately searching for an escape. He found one, there was a popped out edge of fence that he could slip through. 

The figure appeared from the fog, laughing as he found the cornered Waylon. He walked down the narrow fenced path with a large bloody grin. Waylon watched him for a moment before running to the parted fence and slipping through with little struggle. The man was caught off guard at Waylon's escape. He roared in protest and thrashed through the open space in the fence, which easily cut at his skin.

Waylon continued to run, rarely looking back, looking around for an exit. He skid to a halt, spotting a drainage pipe and ran up to it. The pipe went along a brick wall. He thought making it to the other side would mean safety. The man ran up behind him and took a swipe at Waylon, barely missing his leg. The man held his knife firmly getting ready to throw it in to Waylon's back. Waylon took no thought about what may happen and just fell off the other side of the wall. The knife that was thrown brushed past Waylon's head as he fell.

Waylon shut his eyes expecting to crash into gravel, but instead felt a tight pressure around his leg with a pain like razors digging deep into the skin. He yelped and opened his eyes. He was hanging with his hands being barely able to touch the gravel. He looked up and saw that one of his legs was tightly tangled in barbwire. The wire had shredded the end of his pant leg and was now digging into the bloody skin.

“Dammit!” Waylon thought. He looked down again, watching some blood fall off the wire and was surprised to see his camera. He had totally forgotten he brought it out. Waylon let out a breath of relief, knowing that at least it wasn’t dropped on the other side. He wanted to grab the camera, but knew he needed to free his leg before doing anything else.

He bent up and grabbed the wire he was hanging from to hold himself up, letting out a loud growl of pain through gritted teeth as he felt the wire tighten and dig deeper from the concentrated weight. He examined the wire closely looking at how deep it was.

“Too fucking tight...” Waylon thought, trying to grab and loosen the wire just slightly to escape. There was no space to grab under, however, even if grabbed the wire was slick with blood and hard to keep a hold of.

Waylon stopped his actions when he was startled by a sudden shadow appearing. He was ready to bolt over the wall until the figure yelled at him.

“Why did you leave?!” Eddie yelled. Waylon was fighting in his mind on wether to bolt over the wall still or face Eddie. Eddie was obviously not happy that Waylon left the spot he told him to stay at.

“I wanted to find the door and you just left... So I-” Waylon said, too afraid to look at Eddie. He was interrupted before he could finish being grabbed by Eddie and yanked back. Waylon flinched as he was stretched out, being held up by him holding his collar and the wire holding up his leg.

“I told you to stay! You just had to call me! Don't you trust me?!” Eddie said furiously.

“ I do! I just couldn’t stay outside! I am wet and cold! If I stay out too long,I'll get sick!” Waylon said a little too quickly. Waylon cared less about getting sick from being cold, it was the least of his worries after nearly drowning in diseased water and being chased. He mainly just wanted to calm Eddie down before he did something.

Eddie let out a deep growl, letting go of Waylon, as he walked up close and yanked more of the barbwire off the wall. Waylon was able to unsteadily stand on one leg now. Eddie grabbed his tangled leg and began haphazardly unwrapping the barbwire from it. Ripping out some of the deeply dug barbs and tearing a bit more skin. Waylon kept his mouth shut, even though he wanted to stop Eddie, he really didn’t want to start a fight.

Waylon was free and the first thing he did was grab and put away his camera. He took out some alcohol and bandaging. The cuts didn’t need stitching. As soon as Waylon finished with the duct tape Eddie grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up from his seated spot and pulling him somewhere.

“Wait! Where are we going?!” Waylon asked while struggling to get steady on his feet.

“I found the door while you were gone.” Eddie said, letting go of Waylon's collar. Waylon packed the duct tape into his bag, stopping when he noticed Eddie's arm was covered in fresh blood. 

“Where'd that blood come from?” Waylon asked. The blood pooled on the sleeve like it was coming from Eddie, but Waylon saw no tears in it.

“ Its an old stab wound.” Eddie said.

“From a knife?” Waylon asked. He didn’t want Eddie to slowly bleed out or die from a infection when they were barely halfway through the asylum.

“No, a needle.” Eddie said, unconcerned about the injury.

“That’s a lot of blood from-” Waylon started, stopping mid thought when Andrew's needle came to mind. Eddie got stabbed in the arm with it when they were fighting. If he got a dosage of whatever concoction was in the needle his arm must be rotten to the bone. “Let me see the wound.” Waylon said. He needed to clean the wound out straight away as it had been rotting for five straight days. Eddie stopped and glared at Waylon.

“Why?” Eddie asked with distrust.

“I think the needle you got stabbed with was infected with something. Your arm might be rotting out.” Waylon said.

“It was fine the last time I looked at it.” Eddie said while slowly walking again.

“It takes a while for it to start rotting. Just let me look at it.” Waylon said, pressing the matter.

“It will heal as it is.” Eddie said. Waylon was getting frustrated. 

“Eddie want's to be trusted, but he cant trust me.” Waylon thought in his head. He stopped following Eddie and refused to move. Eddie stopped when Waylon did.

“Why are you not moving?” Eddie asked sternly with a raised eyebrow.

“I am not moving until I see your arm.” Waylon said, swallowing hard with his words. Eddie shook his head with a growl and walked up to Waylon, being only a foot in front of him. Waylon flinched away a bit, unsure of what Eddie might do to him.

Eddie stared silently at him for a moment before spreading his injured arm out to him. Waylon looked at the arm before slowly rolling up Eddie's sleeve. When he got close to the wound he saw the shirt fabric sticking strongly to it, and had to peel it away. Waylon felt sick from the rotten smell and by the look of it, it was all black with thick bloody pus.

“A lot of this will have to be cut away.” Waylon said as he examined the long open wound. Eddie pulled his arm away.

“You were only going to look at it. Now come on.” he said and grabbed Waylon's arm to force him forward.

“Its rotten! It has to be treated or else your arm is going to go lame.” Waylon said, trying to get his arm free.

“It’ll heal on it's own.” Eddie argued.

“No it won't! The infection will spread up your arm until it reaches your spine! That'll kill you!” Waylon said. Eddie growled and released Waylon.

“If I let you mutilate my arm will you walk?” Eddie asked.

“Its not mutilating, its treating. And I will.” Waylon said.

“And with what exactly will you carve my arm with?” Eddie asked. Waylon was silenced, he didn’t have anything to cut with. In the infirmary he used a razor he found in a drawer, but he didn’t keep it.

“...I don’t have anything.” Waylon said looking off towards the ground. Eddie sighed, reaching into his side pocket and pulled out a small knife.

“Will this work?” Eddie asked holding it out to Waylon. Waylon looked at it with a bit of disgust. The knife was well coated in dried cracking blood.

“Yes.” Waylon said, slowly taking it from him. “Let's fix your arm inside though.” Waylon said, continuing to walk

They walked through a few fenced pathways that lead to an open double door. Inside, the halls were dimly lighted by the rising sunlight coming through the dark windows.

“Alright, hold out your arm.” Waylon said, grabbing some alcohol to disinfect the knife and wound. Eddie growled in irritation and re-held out his arm for Waylon. Waylon rolled up Eddie's sleeve again and poured a bit of alcohol into the wound.

Eddie kept in a yell and let out a growl through gritted teeth, closing his hand into a tight fist. Waylon leaned back after the pour, just in case Eddie violently jerked away his arm. Waylon turned his arm over to let the bloody alcohol pour out. When the arm was turned over, thick bloody pus slowly poured from the wound. Waylon slowly squeezed out more infected pus that was in the wound until barely any was left.

“I am going to start cutting now.” Waylon said. Being more of a precaution to him then a warning for Eddie. Eddie did a slight nod to let him continue. Waylon looked at the wound and spread it open slightly.

He carefully slid the knife in to cut off the dead meat, realizing it was much easier then expected. The meat was already barely hanging on and just slid off the still healthy meat. He slid off most of the rotten meat and cut off a few other parts. He poured more alcohol onto the wound, fully cleaning it before stitching it and wrapping it up.

“There, just keep it clean and it should heal.” Waylon said finishing the bandage wrap.  
“It still would have healed just fine.” Eddie said, pulling down his sleeve with anger. Waylon rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“So, where to now?” Eddie asked with a hint of anger still in his tone.

“We head down this hall to cut through a small security room, go through a staff room to the stair case. Upstairs we'll be able to pass over the cell blocks instead of going through them. Then we just head through a long office hallway.” Waylon said as they walked down the hall.

They silently walked to the end of the hall. Waylon immediately noticed a keycard pad.

“Fuck.” Waylon cursed lowly, hitting the door. Eddie walked up to the door to look through the small windows.

“That body has a keycard.” Eddie said. Waylon looked through the other window seeing a body against the door with a keycard in hand.

“How to get it though?” Waylon thought, looking back. He noticed a vent out of the corner of his eye.

“I could use that vent.” Waylon said. Eddie was alerted and grabbed Waylon's arm in a tight and slightly painful grip. Waylon flinched and looked at him.

“Why?” Eddie growled, looming over him, and yanking his arm. Waylon knew that Eddie was afraid he was going to run away again using the vents.

“So I can get the keycard. I'll open the door right after.” Waylon said nervously to reassure Eddie he wasn’t going to run. Eddie gave him a distrustful glare.

“I promise I'll come back if the card doesn’t work.” Waylon said. Eddie slowly loosened his grip before letting him go.

“Okay.” Waylon said in reassurance as he slowly turned and got into the vent. He didn’t have to go far to make it to the other side of the door. He walked up to the body grabbing the keycard from it's stiff hand. He swiped it and the doors opened. Eddie made sure to get in quickly.

“Staff door's over there.” Waylon said, gesturing to a door propped open by a dead body. He dropped the keycard into a small sidepocket on his bag.

“Why keep the card? We're not coming back.” Eddie asked.

“Just in case.” Waylon said, leading them to the staff door. The security room was small, being only made for camera surveillance. They passed through a door way with a broken down door that was barely hanging on by a hinge.

“What happened to that?” Waylon thought examining the crushed door.

The staff room was in disarray with bloody papers covering the floor along with varying dead bodies of both security and patients. Eddie seemed to be looking over them for something, Waylon ignored it and went to the stair case.

“Unlocked, good.” he said to himself. He heard shuffling from behind him causing him to turn and look for the source. Eddie was stripping clothes from a body.  
“What are you doing?!” Waylon said out loud with no thought, a mixed look of confusion and disturbance on his face.

“Getting you new clothes.” he said, pulling off a shirt from the dead body, already having a pair of pants in hand.

“What?!” Waylon exclaimed.

“You’re still soaking wet and shivering. I don’t want you getting sick.” Eddie said walking over to him.

“I am not shivering!” Waylon lied. “I am inside now, my clothes will dry off soon!” he said. He was not changing, especially in front of Eddie.

“Just strip, it'd be easier then waiting for them to dry.” Eddie said.

“No.” Waylon strongly replied.

“Shy around your fiance?” Eddie grinned. Waylon felt sick after suddenly hearing that word.

“Never thought I'd despise that word like I do now.” Waylon thought.

“Come on, nothing to be worried about.” Eddie said stepping close. Waylon's eyes went wide and he turned to run, but was grabbed by Eddie from the back of his shirt. Waylon pulled forward and Eddie yanked back, the loud sound of fabric being ripped seemed to echo through the room.

Waylon got away but didn’t get farther then four feet before stopping and watching the front of his shirt fall to the ground. He looked behind him, seeing Eddie holding up the other ripped half.

“Well, now you have to change. I am not letting you walk around like that.” Eddie said, throwing the useless fabric aside. he walked up close to him again with a smile. Waylon slumped his shoulders and glared. He dropped his bag and grabbed the pants from Eddie, wanting to get the bad part over with.

Waylon was going to ask Eddie to turn away, but Eddie had yanked his pants down before Waylon could say a word. In the second it took for Eddie to remove the pants it only took Waylon half as long to get the new pants on. He quickly buckled them on tightly and grabbed the new shirt. He slipped it over him, feeling a bit fresher having some “new” clothes that weren’t a patient's uniform covered in thick grime and weeks of old blood.

His new shirt was a little big, making the sleeves go slightly past his wrists. The white buttoned up shirt had a dried blood stain going up half the left sleeve. The dark jeans had blood going down the same side around the thigh and stopping at the knee.

“You look beautiful, darling.” Eddie complemented with a smile.

“Yeah. Let's just continue.” Waylon said picking up his bag to head upstairs, hoping he'll never have to speak of this again.

Upstairs it was much darker then the brightly lit staff room. Waylon became nervous as he walked blindly in the darkness. He turned his head as he heard a creak from beside him down a side hall. He stopped as he met eyes with another patient.

“You Murkoff scum!” the patient roared and tackled Waylon into the wall beside him. He began brutally smashing Waylon into the wall, fixating a goal of killing him. Waylon struggled, gaining little freedom.


	5. Two steps back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i know my grammar sucks. yes, i have a beta on it. no, i don't want comments on my grammar. iam sick of getting comments just talking about my grammar.  
> and no i don't want another beta. it causes the story to warp a bit and i want to avoid that as much as possible.

“You did this to me!” The patient continued to yell and bash Waylon into the wall. Eddie punched him, knocking him to the floor. He stood over the patient and grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him up a bit. Eddie gave a quick stab with the knife in his neck before slicing down to his lower stomach.

The patient thrashed in his hand, screaming as he was sliced open with his organs spilling. Blood pooled on the floor, being smeared by the patients thrashing before choking on his own blood. Waylon stood there, watching as the patient bled out. Waylon closed his eyes to calm his mind down, taking deep breaths and ignoring the thick copper smell of blood.

“Let's go on.” Eddie said, wiping the blood off his knife on the patient's shirt. He stood up with a calm presence about him as he pocketed the knife. It felt eerie to Waylon.

“How could someone be so calm after doing that?” Waylon thought.

“Coming?” Eddie said, having walked a bit further down the hall.

“Yeah…Just needed to catch my breath.” Waylon said, shaking slightly as he followed.

They walked in silence down the hall, stopping at a cross in them when they heard noises. They were low whispering voices, coming from down the hall. They seemed far, but were slowly getting closer. Waylon guessed there might be five different voices speaking. It wasn’t an abnormal thing for a group to be walking around this area. It was right around a few cell blocks causing high traffic to pass by, or to escape the area. Still, it was better then walking right through the cell blocks in Waylon's opinion.

Eddie stared down the hall for a moment in complete silence. After a few seconds passed he faced forward again to walk on. Waylon followed feeling uneasiness of other patients being around. This is where Waylon was afraid Eddie's unstable mind might go against him.

“If we are attacked again, possibly by a large group, what would Eddie do? Stand his ground and fight them? Run?” Waylon thought. “Most likely try to kill them and kill us in the process.” He thought.

Eddie stopped suddenly and looked back behind them. Waylon did the same hearing the whispering voices again. When he turned his head, they stopped and went silent.

“ …They're following us.” Eddie said, looking forward to walk. Waylon followed, focusing on the voices that returned when they continued. He couldn’t hear or make out much of the conversation, he did recognize that the word Murkoff was repeated often though. The conversation stopped. It perked Waylon's curiosity and he was about to look back when Eddie grabbed his attention.

“They're picking up pace.” Eddie said.

“They're stalking us…We have to lose them before they catch up.” Waylon thought. Plans went through his head on what they should do.

“there's a kitchen on this floor we can cut through. Double doors on the next right.” Waylon whispered. Eddie nodded, both of them picked up slightly in pace.

Through the double doors they stopped. The kitchen was very different from what Waylon thought. It had been gutted out, only leaving exposed pipes and wires from where ovens and sinks used to be. The floor was rotten with large holes in it and missing tiles in some areas. Waylon was debating in his mind to go back.

“They're coming.” Eddie said, looking at the doors. Waylon nodded, thinking it best to move forward. “Step lightly.” Eddie said, letting Waylon get ahead a few steps.

Waylon took a deep breath and slowly walked. He watched the floor for any breaks or loose boards. What little floor was left protested under Waylon and Eddie's weight.

Waylon froze when he heard the dreadful noise of floor boards cracking under weight and caving in. Waylon looked back in realization that he wasn’t the one falling. Eddie smashed through the floor falling into the darkness. Waylon whipped around in vain to try and help, but it was already too late. He looked down into the dark hole in panic.

“Eddie!” Waylon yelled. No answer. “Eddie!” Waylon repeated, desperate for a reply. Still nothing. Waylons stomach clenched up in fear. He might be alone now.

“No, I cant be.” Waylon said holding back some tears at the thought of being on his own. He knew that without Eddie, he wouldn’t get very far. Then again, Eddie might be dead now. So, he had a decision to make.

“If I go on, I don’t know what I'll face. If I am caught, I can't fight well, no one will help me. And if I get brutally injured...” Waylon thought, staring into the hole. “I'll never get out.” he said with a sigh. He knew he had to retrieve Eddie, or at least see if he was dead.

Waylon heard the voices talking again and they were getting close. He got up and carefully left the kitchen. He ran down the halls to get as much space between him and the stalkers before stopping. He had gotten into a bathroom, starting to pace around inside. Waylon was going through the map of the asylum in his head to figure out where Eddie might have dropped into. He felt sick when he figured it out.

Eddie would have fallen into the mental ward. The only way to get there was to pass through one of the cell blocks. A large room filled with unstable, unpredictable, patients.

“Can't just stay here.” Waylon thought as he headed straight towards the nearest stairs down to a cell block. In his mind he was thinking of a strategy to navigate the cell block.  
“Don’t look at anyone, stay against the walls, don’t run unless you have to.” he repeated in his mind. 

He grabbed the stair door knob. He felt odd seeing a clean looking sleeve on him instead of the usual patient clothing sleeve. That thought echoed in his mind and he wasn’t sure why.

“I am just not used to it. I hadn’t worn normal clothes in months. Always used to looking like a... patient.” the thought clicking in his head. The patient got angry because he thought he was a Murkoff guard or a doctor. The stalkers probably thought so too. He wasn’t seen as a patient anymore and couldn’t blend in.

“Fucking dammit!” he thought. He couldn’t go through the cell block. He'd be pummeled and ripped apart by the others.

“I could cover myself with my blanket until I get to the mental ward.” he said, reaching for it in his bag. He ran to the cell block door, covering himself before opening it. He opened it slowly and looked inside. Like most other cell blocks the patients were listless. Some slowly wandered while others did abnormal things by themselves.

Waylon looked towards the ground as he slowly moved against the wall. Paying attention to any movement in his peripheral vision. Two patients began fighting, grabbing Waylon's attention. In the second that he looked away he was grabbed through cell bars and yanked into them.

Waylon struggled free, loosing his cover in the process. He looked back at the others, noticing that some were staring while others didn’t seem to care.

The few that were looking came forward with an aggressive posture. Waylon ran, not wanting to stay for much longer with the aggressive patients following. He ran down the long block, avoiding patients who lunged at him. One patient was too quick and tackled Waylon from behind. Waylon twisted underneath him to fight himself free.

Waylon was clawed at violently leaving multiple scratch marks, mainly up his arms and his chest. The patient was around the same height as Waylon, but thinner, giving Waylon a slight advantage. He punched the patient, knocking him back before slamming his boot into the patient's ribs. The kick knocked the wind out of him, having him fall off to the side.

Waylon jumped to his feet, once free, and ran down to a disinfecting chamber. Waylon leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. He examined his arms. There were small scratches and tears in his sleeve with a little blood around them.

The doors opened and Waylon was surprised to see a small hunting party at the entrance door. They were attacking it leaving bloody smears as they beat their hands raw. Waylon bolted out as the second clear door opened for him to leave.

He ran through a few more halls and chambers before slowing down as he entered the mental ward. He was breathing harshly and looking frantically around for any signs of Eddie. He didn’t have time to stop with the seekers following him.

“Eddie!” Waylon yelled with a wheeze of breath. His voice echoed down the white concrete hall. Waylon repeatedly looked behind him in paranoia as he jogged.

“Dammit, where could he be!? Please don’t be in a room!” Waylon thought. If Eddie did end up trapped in a room, Waylon would have to hunt the keys for it. Something he just did not have the time for.

Waylon went through the map in his head, desperately trying to figure out where Eddie would have fallen through. He went down a different hall, soon hearing the sound of a door slamming open.

“Fuck!” Waylon thought, looking back down the hall. If he couldn’t find Eddie soon, he at least needed to hide until the seekers left. Waylon went up to a door, yanking it open. 

It was a medical supply room filled with stocked shelves. He grabbed a nearby shelf to drag in front of the door. Inside the room were boxes of needles, yellowed IV bags, rusted old tools, and other equipment. He ran by the shelves, not noticing a patient sitting by one. The startled patient lashed out with a scalpel, slashing into Waylon's side. He jumped away with a jolt, accidentally smashing into a shelf nearby. It crashed onto the floor along with the now shattered glass vials.

Waylon heard the seekers sprinting down the hall and he ran towards the exit. He slammed through the doors towards a small security room. Waylon slowly grew unsteady on his feet as the engine grew into a painful buzz in his skull. He stopped at a corner, wheezing as the engine constricted his rib cage. He slowly inched along the wall, using it for support when he got light headed.

He held his head trying to focus on his surroundings. The sounds of footsteps buzzing in and out of focus from his hearing. He shook his head and continued running. the engine slowly blurred his vision, forcing them in and out of a black blurry fog. Waylon stopped when he heard no more running. He was worried his hearing was shut down by the engine. To be sure he lightly tapped the wall. He felt relief when he could hear the noise.

Waylon continued on, keeping quiet and walking slow, hoping the engine would dissipate. His vision was regained, but the irritating, and sometimes painful, buzzing remained.

“Eddie...” Waylon whispered, looking behind him for a moment. He went down a short hall to a door. He knew this was a file storage room and thought it was a good place to hide. He opened the door, causing a long creak. The light behind Waylon casted white light into the dark room. It was barely illuminated by a broken computer screen in the corner.

Waylon closed the door behind him, beginning to silently navigate through the groupings of large file cabinets. He jumped when he heard something fall. Someone else was in here. Waylon thought about calling Eddie's name, but went against it. If it was Eddie he would have said something already. He continued to walk, keeping aware of anything that might be moving. Passing a cabinet, he saw a plastic cafeteria knife.

“Well, its better than nothing.” he said and grabbed it. He saw movement off to the side coming towards him. He backed up behind some cabinets, forming into a slight fighting stance. He couldn’t flee through the halls any longer with the engine effect. Either this patient was going to die or leave him alone after he attacks. When the patient got close, Waylon stabbed the plastic knife into him.

Waylon was going for the neck, but the patient dodged away enough that it only stabbed into his shoulder. The knife snapped in two as the patient tackled Waylon into a cabinet. Waylon regretted his decision and began stabbing the broken end of the knife into his assailant. His hand was pinned along with his neck, which was now being slowly crushed by the patient's arm.

He kicked at the patient, trying to get loose or at least push him away with his free arm. The engine was now on full throttle with Waylon feeling trapped and slowly dieing. The engine felt like it was forcing his body to crush his brain, lungs, and stomach. His vision went completely black from the severe lack of air unable to fill his lungs.

His assailant was yanked away, having Waylon drop to the floor with a loud gasp of air. Waylon coughed and wheezed harshly to get air. His vision returning quickly afterward. He looked over to see what happened to his attacker. Eddie had the patient pinned down onto the desk and stabbed into the patient's side. He yanked the knife away, slicing his side open to pour out the blood from his body at a quick pace. The patient struggled a little more before going limp.

Eddie dropped him and stood up straight. He put his knife away then began to brush the wrinkles away from his clothes, caused by the struggle. He went over to Waylon starting to do the same. He gave a look of confusion at how roughed up and exhausted Waylon looked.

“What happened to you?” he asked after straightening Waylon's shirt. Waylon just gave him a poker face, flashing back to everything he just went through to find Eddie. Eddie seemed pretty unharmed, only having a few scratches and a short gash on the left side of his jaw. Hearing no repose or reaction to his question, Eddie gave a gentle tap using the back of his fingers at the middle of Waylon's chest right under the collar bone. Waylon was startled from his thoughts and registered Eddie's question.

“I-I was chased and attacked.” Waylon said. Eddie gave a grimace of displeasure at that news.

“By who?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know them. Just patients. I think there might be seven of them. They followed me here and I came in here to hide.” Waylon said. Eddie raised an eyebrow and looked at the door.

“Stay here. I'll take care of them.” Eddie said, pointing at the spot Waylon stood. Waylon nodded, hating the thought of Eddie leaving again after all he went through to find him. He knew though that it wasn’t safe with them around and he couldn’t risk having a breakdown in the halls again. After Eddie closed the door Waylon went to a corner in the far back to sit. He flinched when he walked, the soreness of his body catching up to him as he calmed down.

Waylon didn’t know how much time passed while Eddie was gone. He had been drifting in and out of sleep in the dark corner. He sat up straight when the door opened. Eddie entered in a hurry and looked at Waylon.

“Come here.” he commanded, stopping in the middle of the room. Waylon was hesitant when he got up. Eddie moved him to a spot in the middle of a small walk way.

“Stay here, and don’t move no matter what.” Eddie said before disappearing somewhere among the file cabinets. Waylon looked back for Eddie until he heard the door slam open. He looked ahead, seeing a patient come in, breathing heavily like he finished a marathon. He was covered in a splatter of blood and cuts everywhere.

The patient looked around quickly and spotted Waylon. Waylon's body stiffened up at being noticed, preparing to run. He stayed still though, obeying Eddie's earlier command. The man yelled with fury as he charged at Waylon. Waylon closed his eyes tightly as he prepared to be tackled.

It never came. There was a loud sound of heavy sliding and a crash of metal. Waylon opened his eyes. The patient was crushed by a large file cabinet that had been smashed into him by Eddie. His rib cage was crushed beyond repair, blood pouring from his mouth with gurgling noises and bones shifting out and under his skin. Waylon swallowed, feeling a bit sick.

“That was the last one.” Eddie smiled. “How shall we continue from here?” he asked. Waylon stayed silent, soaking in Eddie's calm question and trying to block the crushed patient's image.

“We need to head for a medical bay, past that we'll enter a small office area. Then pass through a small connection hall to another building.” Waylon said in monotone.

“Ready, then?” Eddie asked. Waylon nodded, he felt exhausted, but wanted to leave the area as quickly as possible.

They made quick time to the medical bay. It was a long room with beds separated by hanging curtains. The beds had shackles at both ends to restrain uncooperative patients. Waylon grabbed a small stool, pulling it up next to a bed. He poured a small cap full of alcohol, setting it on the stool as he sat on the bed. He used a small piece of bandage to dip in the alcohol to use in cleaning on the scratches on his arms. Eddie sat next to him, keeping silent. Waylon looked at Eddie's arm, remembering the infection he had.

“We should probably check and re-bandage your arm.” Waylon said, cleaning a few scratches. Eddie let out an annoyed grumble. Waylon also thought of removing the stitches from his own leg. He asked for Eddie's knife and held up his leg. Eddie gave it to him. He lifted the end stitches slightly before cutting them and slowly pulling the wire out. He gave the knife back.

“Let me see your arm.” Waylon said. Eddie held it out for him. Waylon undid the bandage and looked at the wound. It had healed well with a now large scab covering around the stitching. Waylon cleaned it with a small amount of alcohol and re-bandaged it. He packed away the alcohol and grabbed a jar of jerky out. He gave half to Eddie, who looked at it like some unknown foreign food. That didn’t surprise Waylon, who knows how long Eddie had been here eating that puree slop they gave patients.

After they ate, Eddie started to patrol up and down the bay while Waylon got some much needed rest.

Early next morning

Eddie woke Waylon early like before, startling Waylon when he did. Waylon got up and stretched heading for the large double doors at the end of the medical bay.

Past the doors they entered an office area. Waylon paused when they entered, letting Eddie walk past. The walls were covered in pictures and words made from blood. He followed Eddie with a few steps between them, examining the illegible words and pictures. Most of the pictures were of small human looking things.

“Looks like voodoo dolls.” Waylon said. The dolls were drawn in a chicken scratch manner with Xs for eyes and wide smiles. Some of the dolls had lines coming off them like needles or possibly wires holding them. 

“Puppets.” Eddie said.

“What?” Waylon asked.

“The blood says puppets.” Eddie said, gesturing to the only legible word. Waylon looked at it. The word was thickly written in blood. Someone wanted to make sure this word was seen.

They passed the offices, entering the long connecting hall to the next building. Waylon looked out the dark windows he passed by, seeing the sun slightly peaking over the mountains. He noticed more bloody pictures of the puppets on the walls next to the doors. The doors opened to more offices.

“Now, we head through the offices until we make it to a hall with lockers and go through a cafeteria and into a kitchen. Past the kitchen will be halls leading to a lab.” Waylon said.


	6. the Puppeteer

The two walked through the office halls with Waylon being a bit slow. He was examining more of the chicken scratch puppets on the wall. The puppets had become more frequent with obvious words of warning.

“I think we should head a different way.” Waylon said.

''Why? We're doing well.” Eddie said. They passed through a door way to the long hall with lockers down one side. Eddie stopped and waited for Waylon by the doorway. Once Waylon caught up, he stopped.

“Something isn’t right here.” Waylon said, looking at more chicken scratch drawings that littered across the lockers. There was also a massive amount of barb wire unraveled around the hall.

“No one’s here. We should be fine.” Eddie said, continuing on. Waylon shook his head slightly, slowly following after. Waylon had to step over some stretched pieces of wire. At one point he got tangled and almost tripped.

“Careful.” Eddie said, looking back at him. He stopped when he reached the large cafeteria doors, he waited for Waylon to catch up.

Waylon opened the doors and froze. Bodies. There was a huge assemblage of dead hanging bodies. Both were silent as they scanned the large collection. The bodies strung up with barb wire wrapped around their limbs and necks. There eyes had been cut out in a “delicate” manor from the lack of cut marks.

“Puppets.” Waylon said quietly. He slowly stepped through the door way and weaved through the hanging bodies.

“Stay close.” Eddie said, making sure there was barely any distance between them.

Waylon looked at all the bodies and noticed some were set up in a way to replicate actions. He was reminded of Eddie's display before he met him, these ones seemed a bit more disturbing though. Unlike Eddie's these were well taken care of and kept to resemble some sort of living humanity. Not allowed to be seen as just dead bodies, or a minimal replication of something.

“Some of these are old.” Waylon said. He knew some were by how unmovable the bodies were with rigor mortis and the lack of blood dripping from wounds on them. Under the older bodies were large, dry, cracking, old blood pools.

Each body had their eyes removed, leaving only dark gaping holes. The corners of there mouths were slit and stitched into Glasgow smiles. The image made Waylon sick and paranoid.

“Shouldn’t there be maggots eating these?” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah… unless they were preserved with something.” Waylon said, twisting one of the puppet arms and seeing a large puncture wound that made a perfect circle. He dropped the arm and wiped his hand on the front of his shirt with a look of disgust. He slowly stepped by a body, noticing from the corner of his eye a fast moving shadow that disappeared. Waylon was startled back, accidentally knocking into Eddie.

“What?” Eddie asked. Being unaffected by Waylon's action.

“Something moved.” Waylon whispered.

“Don’t worry, I am here. Just keep moving.” Eddie said, lightly pushing Waylon forward. Waylon didn’t want to go forward, he felt trapped. He hated that feeling when it rarely appeared. Usually he had escape plans thought up before going anywhere.

As they stepped by the bodies, Waylon noted how complex their arrangements were getting. Before, the bodies were set up to just be waving or shaking hands, small things like that. Now they were set up to look like they were kissing, dancing, having a drink at a makeshift table, slicing their necks open, having some sort of dinner party with rotten old food.

None of these were helping Waylon's condition of feeling trapped. He looked over and saw a staring face in the shadows. it caused the engine to spark, in a red flash, in his brain with no warning. It distorted the face into some wide grinned monster with thousands of needle teeth and bright red swirling eyes. Waylon slammed back into Eddie with fear and surprise.

Eddie grabbed him by wrapping an arm around his waist with his hand resting on his side. The engine died as quickly as it had sparked, the face no longer being present where he looked before. He breathed heavily, looking around for where the face might have gone.

“Darling?” Eddie said, trying to get Waylon's attention. Waylon jumped, realizing Eddie was holding him and he scrambled away.  
“You alright?” Eddie asked.

“I am fine, I am fine.” Waylon said hastily while fidgeting with his clothes.

“Are you sick?” Eddie asked.

“No.” Waylon said a bit loudly. He did not want Eddie to find out about his problem with the engine. For all he knew Eddie might just try and “fix” him.

“What's wrong?” Eddie asked in an oddly gentle tone.

“…I just saw a face and it scared me.” Waylon lied. Or did he? He wasn’t even sure himself of what he saw was real or not.

“Where?” Eddie asked, looking around.

“It's gone, itdoesn'tmatter.” Waylon said with the last words mumbled together as he continued on. Eddie gave a look of suspicion and doubt, but Waylon didn’t see it.

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” Eddie asked again.

“Yes.” Waylon said.

“Did you see a person, or just a face?” Eddie asked.

“It's not important.” Waylon said, beginning to be annoyed. He knew, Eddie wanted him to admit that he was sick.

“Are you sure there was a face?” Eddie asked

“Yes.” Waylon lied.

“What did the face look like?” Eddie pressed, a tone of insistence slowly showing.

“I don’t remember.” Waylon said quickly to try and brush off Eddie's interrogation.

“What did it look like?!” Eddies question turning into more of a demand. Waylon wasn’t even sure of what Eddie was truly asking him anymore. That there was no face or there was? That he was sick and hallucinating?

Waylon turned, about to say something, but before he could say a word he was knocked from his feet, a noose of barb wire wrapped tightly around one of his legs. He was instantly pulled away from Eddie once he hit the ground, being dragged away underneath bodies into the darkness.

He tried desperately to stop himself from being pulled, clawing at the ground and grabbing onto anything he could, faltering every time. Waylon could hear Eddie yelling something, but Waylon couldn’t understand with his panicking drowning out noise. He was dragged out into a small opening and felt the intense pain of getting hit with something hard over the head, blacking out soon after.

Minutes later

Waylon slowly awoke, his body forcing him to with the use of fear and adrenaline. He opened his eyes, noticing a large metallic pot of thick yellow boiling liquid with multiple attached large needles. A bright yellow label on the side read: lab approved sanitized embalming fluid.

It made Waylon's stomach drop. He fully sat up and tried to stand from where he was, finding his hands and legs restrained to the chair he was in. He looked around the room, seeing ovens and sinks.

“The kitchen...” he mumbled to himself.

“Oh, you’re awake. My dolls never wake this early.” Waylon heard from a delighted voice. He looked over, seeing a creepy man smiling at him.

The man was tall with short uneven hair. Seemed like he had been yanking handfuls of it out with some spots being almost bald. Waylon also noticed the multiple claw marks up and down his red irritated arms. The man fidgeted a lot and scratched his arms frequently, leading to the guess of them being self inflicted.

“My dolls never get to see their creator. I find that sad, but I am too impatient for them to awake. At least you can enjoy this with me.” The man said with his sickening cheery tone.  
“First I have to remove your eyes. you have wonderful eyes, they all do, but I'll have to take them out. Sorry. I used to leave them in, but the decay would get them and ruin them!” he said, his cheerful tone turning to something bitter. He again scratched roughly at an arm.

This conversation was making Waylon sick. He didn’t want to experience the process let alone hear it all before then. He jerked his hands and arms, desperate to get free. The man went to a counter, he raked his hand through his hair looking around. He pulled out a small bloody patch of hair before throwing it to the side, before grabbing a thin and slightly curved fillet knife.

The sight of the knife made Waylon struggle more. The man noticed, his body getting a little tense. He pointed the knife at Waylon's face with a frown. Waylon flinched away, leaning as far away from the knife as possible. The man grew a grin at the reaction.

“If you’re afraid I'll mess up, I won't. I don’t have patients when waiting to get started, but when I work I have it all. The eye removal can be the most time consuming. I don’t want to make large cuts that distract from the set. If it’ll make you happy I can keep the eyes in a jar for you.” The man said eagerly. Waylon shook his head, not wanting to do with anything the man talked about.

“Don’t worry, I'll take good care of you. I'll make sure you have a smile and keep all your things. After I'll preserve you, you’ll be perfect. I don’t want any of my beautiful puppets to rot… Now hold still.” he said and grabbed Waylon's chin.

Waylon struggled to get away from the man's hand and out of the chair. The man paused when there was a loud banging on the locked metal kitchen doors nearby.

“Open this fucking door you diseased swine!” Eddies voice yelled furiously through the metal.

“Go away.” the man said calmly, as if he actually expected Eddie to obey him. He looked back at Waylon and brought the knife up close to the bottom of his eye. Waylon panicked with the engine returning. Bright red flashed were going past his eyes. The man being distorted into the creature he saw earlier. Waylon began to hyperventilate, straining his neck to crane away from the knife.

“Don't you fucking touch him!” Eddie yelled, smashing himself into the metal.

“Come back later.” the man said calmly again. He slowly cut into the bottom of Waylon's left eye. Waylon began yelling in pain as the knife dug deeper into his eye. Waylons mind was beginning to except that he would soon loose that eye, or be unable to use it any longer.

There was one loud bang and his eye was then quickly sliced across the bottom and off to the side of his face. Waylon jerked away his head, instinctively hiding his injured eye into his shoulder and tightly closing his eyes. He felt warm blood slide down his face, to drip off onto the floor or pool at his shoulder. He opened his other eye to see that Eddie had bent in the metal door partially. He was determined to get in like a rabid dog, fighting at the door to bend it further open.

The man, who had confidence that Eddie was staying on the other side looked a little surprised. He glared at Eddie with confidence that seemed to be slowly dying.

“Get out! You're not allowed to be here!” the man yelled. Seeing Eddie wasn’t obeying his command, he foolishly tried again.

“Get out!” He yelled and threw his knife at the door.

Once Eddie was half way in, the man's confidence fully disappeared. He bolted through a bunch of equipment and out the kitchen back door. Waylon shut his eye again, finding it too painful to force his injured eye to move with the other.

He stayed still listening to Eddie get in and almost run after the man, but stopped. He came over to Waylon and quickly untied him from the chair. Waylon stood up and went straight to a cracked mirror nearby. He slowly opened his painful eye, only seeing a reddish black color through it. He could see in the mirror that his eye was flooded with blood. Waylon began to tear up, stopping when it caused serious pain in his eye.

Eddie came over to turn Waylon towards him. He held up Waylon's face trying to see his eye, but he had closed it again.

“Open your eye.” Eddie commanded. Waylon refused and attempted to pull away. Eddie didn’t allow it.

''Open!” Eddie commanded again, holding Waylon's face firmly.

Seeing no other choice, Waylon forced his eye open, having it twitch in pain at the air touching it. Eddie let out a growl of anger and pointed Waylon's face to the ground.

“Don’t bring your head up and don't close your eye.” Eddie commanded before he left Waylon. He scavenged through the drawers of the kitchen before finding a small rag. He returned to Waylon and tilted up his head up slightly. He got ready to press the rag over Waylon's eye until he flinched away.

“What are you doing?!” Waylon questioned, moving his head away.

“Stop moving! I have to drain your eye if you want to see through it.” Eddie said, firmly gripping Waylon's face again. Waylon flinched away slightly when Eddie brought the rag back up and pressed it against his eye. It was excruciating and he could hear blood dripping faster off his face. Waylon struggled a bit, wanting to escape from the pain. Eddie just pinned him firmly against the wall so he couldn’t slip away.

Eddie removed the now blood covered rag from Waylon's face. Waylon opened his eye again, still feeling the same amount of pain, but he could actually see through it now. Instead of the reddish black darkness, he saw more of a weird reddish tint on everything now, some spots being a bit darker then others.

“Can you see?” Eddie asked.

“Everything’s red...” Waylon said, shaking a bit.

“There’s still a little blood, hopefully your eye will clear it out as it heals.” Eddie said, wiping the blood off of Waylon's face. Waylon stayed quiet, then a thought came to mind.

“ …How did you know removing blood would work?” Waylon asked. He was sure he couldn’t have learned it from Murkoff. They didn’t do much when patients were injured, and no way they’d care for an eye. Eddie froze, as well as going silent. Waylon went silent, waiting for a answer, any answer. From Eddie's dead expression, Waylon knew he had pricked a delicate subject.

“ …Experience.” he finally said, swallowing hard. Waylon accepted that answer, not wanting to push further on it.

He opened his eye a few times, trying to get it used to the air or the pain. He really did not want to loose his eye. He relied on it too much, Especially when his career was based on software and computers. That reminded him that he’d have to search for a job when he's free, and hopefully Lisa was doing alright with the boys. Lisa was a stay-at-home mother while Waylon worked, he hoped she was able to find a job to pay the bills. although…would he ever be able to work after all this? He'll definitely need some kind of trauma therapy, or something for PTSD. Waylon let out a sigh.

“Should we keep going forward?” Eddie asked. Waylon thought about how the puppeteer had left the way they were heading and shook his head.

“I don’t want to run into that guy.” Waylon stated.

“We head back to a stair case, head downstairs and navigate through layers of labs, halls, and testing rooms.” Waylon said.

“Wish to go now?” Eddie asked. Waylon nodded.

One hour later

At the first lab they arrived at, Waylon began digging through drawers and cabinets, searching for something.

“What are you looking for?” Eddie asked.

“Painkillers.” Waylon said. His eye and face was in excruciating pain. All the wonderful numbing adrenaline being gone from his system for a while. His face felt on fire around the gash, his eye felt like it was still being stabbed. It stung horribly to blink or even move the eye.

He came up to a locked cabinet with a thick glass front. The inside of the glass was layered with dust, having him unable to read any medicine bottles.

“Have anything that could unlock this?” Waylon asked Eddie.

“Possibly.” he said, walking up to the cabinet. He examined the sides and back of it before pushing it to the ground. It made a loud crashing noise that echoed through the halls. Waylon didn’t like there presence being announced like that throughout the floor, but it wouldn’t make a big difference.

Eddie pushed it over so it's front was facing up and he smashed his boot down onto the glass. He cracked it the first time and finally broke it on the third.

“There.” he said. Waylon carefully pulled the broken glass away and rummaged through the varying bottles.

“Aspirin, penicillin, citalopram, doxycycline, trazodone, Lyrica. “ Waylon said to himself as he quickly read through labels. He happily found a small bottle in a corner.

“a small dosage, but good enough.” Waylon said as he swallowed two pills. He thought of if he would become a drug addict in this place.

“Feel better?” Eddie asked.

“It takes a little while to get an effect.” Waylon said, packing the bottle into his backpack.

“Why don’t you just take the other medicines? Just in case you need them in the future.” Eddie said.

“I can't sneak well with multiple rattling pill bottles in my back pack. If I keep only a few bottles there wont be much noise.” Waylon said. There was a moment of silence between the two as they left the lab.

“…I am sorry, I let him do that to you. I should have been more vigilant in our surroundings.” Eddie said. Waylon wasn’t sure how to respond to that, he was no longer used to apologies.

“…Well, its not as bad as it could be. I can still use my eye.” Waylon said, feeling the gash across his cheek.

“Your lovely face will be scarred now, though.” Eddie said.

“Not accounting emotional scars.” Waylon thought. “I am sure this won't be the last scar I get. I’ll get more from falls and other things.” Waylon said.

“True, and your face is still alluring.” Eddie complimented happily with a grin. Waylon just shivered.

“I swear I'll have Lisa promise me to never utter the words darling, alluring or any other words of love Eddie had spoken.” Waylon thought.

“Cold?” Eddie asked.

“Just felt a sudden breeze.” Waylon lied as they entered another lab. This lab had fridges full of blood packets and blood filled tubes. At the other end of the lab they entered into another decontamination chamber. Eddie tensed up like before as the doors closed with the gas being released. Waylon squeezed his injured eye closed as it was burned by the gas. The doors opened and he stepped out, he let out a surprised gasped when he looked next to the door way. He stepped away from it. It was another puppet, hung up next to the chamber door way. There were a few more scattered around the halls. Some were set up like they were talking in the halls. One was walking by while looking down at a clip board. And a few more just seemed to be walking. Eddie stepped out, looking a bit surprised himself at the doll makers presence.

“Well, look who’s back.” Eddie said, looking around.

“Hopefully he's not nearby.” Waylon said stepping down a hall.

“If he was, I'am sure he won't come near. He didn’t seem very fond of me.” Eddie said as he followed. Waylon flashed a small smile at that thought.

They walked through a door into a lab. Waylon's paranoia nagged at him when he noticed out of place gas coils pinned to the roof. He didn’t trust the room anymore and slowly took a few steps back. After taking his second step gas had started spraying into the room at a alarming rate. The room was quickly filled in a minute and it became hard to breath. Waylon was loosing conscious with his vision going blurry. He looked at Eddie who was trying hard to bust down the thick metal door. The gas was making him weak too, eventually he stopped banging and fell to the floor. Waylon blacked out before he could see Eddie hit the floor.


	7. Eye for an eye

Waylon's face twitched in agitation. His throat was hurting and he wasn’t sure why. Something was obviously wrong, but his brain was in too much of a hazy fog to realize why. He shifted a bit, noticing his limbs were stiffly moving, although they didn’t feel sore. He heard a voice saying something, it was muffled and it took a moment for him to clearly hear it.

“ Waylon…Waylon….Waylon!” the voice yelled. He opened his eyes, seeing blurry fog that slowly came to focus. Eddie was standing in front of him a few feet away. Waylon blinked in confusion and attempted to move, he was stopped by something. He looked down seeing his limbs wrapped tightly in barb wire. He took a few steps back to see all the wires hanging off him.

“Don’t move! Stop!” Eddie said urgently. Waylon didn’t listen in time. Both were standing on a balanced board, Waylon tipped the weight, sending Eddie's side upward. The adrenalin that rushed into his system knocked his brain out of the haze he was in. He quickly stepped forward to make it balanced again.

He looked off the side of the board. There was a long dark drop, one he would definitely not survive. He looked up at Eddie, then allowed his eyes to wander and examine the room they were in. There was an observation dome at the top of the large circle shaped room. The small bits of floor still attached to the wall were tiled and there were two doors on either side of the room.

“Surgery observation?” Waylon thought. He looked back at the barb wire wrapped around one of his arms and yanked it. Eddie's arm was jerked up slightly when he yanked.

“Stop!” Eddie growled. They were tied to each other.

“Sorry.” Waylon said. He looked up and saw all the wires attached in front of a window by a group of linked chains. The barb wire wrapped around his neck scratched at it when he moved. He looked down, annoyed at the wire. He reached up and tried to loosen it, but Eddie caused his arm to jerk away.

“Don’t pull on that.” Eddie warned. Waylon noticed the wire around Eddies neck was embedded into his skin. He dropped his arm. He couldn’t pull on the wire at all or he might accidentally choke Eddie. 

“It must have gotten embedded when I was out. He had to have held me up for a while.” Waylon thought.

“What do we do?” he asked, and looked back up at the chains near the window.

“If one of us can get up there the wires will loosen and we can get them off.” Eddie said looking up as well.

“Any idea how to get up?” Waylon asked, looking at him.

“You can climb up.” Eddie suggested.

“Wouldn’t that choke you?” Waylon asked.

“Not if I grab the wires. If you jump and grab the wire, I can grab my own. I won't choke and the wires will get looser on you as you climb.” Eddie said.

“Okay.” Waylon noden.

''Go on three?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah.” Waylon said, preparing himself. He brought his sleeves down and bunched the ends in his hand. The barbwire was less likely to slash his hands that way.

“Ready?” Eddie asked grabbing onto the wire above him. Waylon nodded.

“One, two, three!” Eddie said, he yanked the wire and went to the middle of the balanced board. Waylon jumped up onto the wire, beginning to climb.

“You okay?” Waylon asked, looking down at Eddie.

“Just keep climbing!” he said, wrapping the wire around his arm for more grip. This reminded Waylon of when Eddie almost hanged him.

“Hopefully he can hold my weight this time.” Waylon thought as he climbed. At the top, he went through the broken window. He removed his wires as soon as his feet were on the ground and tied them to the chains.

“They're on the chains now.” Waylon said down to Eddie. He jumped when he heard a mechanical noise behind him.

“An elevator.” he said quietly. Waylon looked around for a weapon. He saw a pipe above him and pulled it down, breaking off a piece of it. He couldn’t let the doll maker undo the wires before Eddie was up. He stood next to the open doorway with the pipe held tightly in his hand. The elevator stopped and he heard someone walking down the hall towards the room.

He waited till the figure passed the door way, when they did he stabbed the broken pipe into their side. The doll maker yelled out in pain and yanked out the pipe piece. Waylon slipped by, running down the hall.

“How did you get up here?!” the puppeteer yelled, running after Waylon. The puppeteer was covered in barbwire wrapped around his body. He stretched out a piece off his arm and wrapped it around his hands to make a strangling wire.

Waylon ran down a hall, looking back to see the puppeteer was not far behind. He looked forward again, skidding to a halt and slamming into a wall. It was a dead end. Waylon looked back at the doll maker who was closing in on him. He looked around desperately for anything he could use for a weapon, seeing nothing useful.

He looked back up to see Eddie punch the back of the man's head. He whipped around swinging a arm at Eddie, which barely missed scratching his face. Eddie grabbed the wire in his hands and yanked it away, unraveling more of it off his arm. The man grabbed a hold of it and yanked it to bring Eddie forward. Eddie punched him again in the chest. It knocked the wind out of him, buying Eddie a moment to unravel some wire off his chest. The doll maker swung at him again, hitting his collarbone and scratching his throat with the wire.

Waylon snuck up behind him and kicked the back of his leg, forcing him to fall. Eddie unraveled more wire as Waylon ran by, he ran after him as the puppeteer got up.

“You fucking toys need to obey!” the doll maker yelled. He got frustrated as he got up, getting tangled in his wires a bit. He ran after the two down the hall.

Eddie yanked Waylon from going down a hall, which he knew was towards an escape.

“Wait, the exit's that way!” Waylon said as he was pulled.

“We're taking the elevator.” Eddie said. Waylon looked through the cage door, blocking the shaft, seeing that the elevator was already going down.

“We can't take the elevator!” Waylon said.

“Just jump.” Eddie said, opening the cage door. He jumped onto the elevator, stood up, and looked at Waylon. Waylon looked back down the hall. He was afraid to jump, but seeing the doll maker coming, he forced himself to.

He landed onto the elevator with a thud. He was helped up by Eddie and quickly moved. The puppeteer looked down at them with hatred and jumped down himself. Eddie got himself in front of Waylon, positioning the elevator cable, running down the middle, between them and the puppeteer.

“I am going to hang you! You won't even be like the others! I'll let disease and rot eat you away until you're both revolting maggot bags!” the man yelled, full of fury. He walked towards them both. Eddie stood his ground and raised his fists a bit.

“That’s not going to happen! You ruined my fiancee's eye and I am not going to let that pass, you living shit!” Eddie growled at him. The man swung at him, missing. Eddie grabbed a handful of wires to yanked them forward and punched the man in his gut. The man let out a wheeze of air and punched Eddie's face when he got his air back. Eddie stumbled a bit, but he made sure to keep a tight grip on the wires. He spat out a bit of blood from his newly cut lip and glared at the man.

The man tackled Eddie, knocking him into the wall and giving a few punches. Eddie knocked him back with a hard punch to his shoulder. Waylon avoided the moving brawl on the elevator, moving around as it did. Eddie gave the man another hard punch, knocking him into the wall. He fell to the ground panting with a bleeding forehead. The man had bruises everywhere from the punches, and Eddie was covered in varying cuts and gashes. Eddie threw the wires away behind the man.

“Given up?” Eddie asked, panting. The man shot him a death glare and stood up.

“No, I'll string you both up outside. The crows will be happy to take your fiancee's eyes.” the man threatened with a chuckle. Eddie glared, but didn’t move.

“Fine, you’ve lost anyway. You can't do anything more.” Eddie stated.

“I haven’t fucking lost!” the man yelled. “You’re going to be-” the man said moving for Eddie. he was stopped halfway, being restrained. He was slowly being pulled back by all the wires wrapped on him. He looked at Eddie, surprised and confused. Eddie gave him a wide grin of victory, knowing full well what had happened.

He had started the elevator down, unraveled the man's wires, and got him onto the elevator. When the man had fallen and Eddie threw away the wires. He had thrown them into the moving gears of the elevator.

The man looked back seeing his wires getting tangled and wrapped into them. The wires got tighter around the puppeteers body, he panicked and desperately tried to remove the them. Eddie proudly went back over to Waylon, watching it all happen with a smug face. The elevator slowed as the wires began to interfere with the gear movements.

The man gasped for air, all his wires slowly crushing and cutting into his body. The first snap of a bone breaking was heard, his leg being broken backwards and folding over itself. Waylon couldn’t watch and looked away, shutting his eyes while Eddie happily watched. The man was out of air and unable to scream as more bones slowly snapped one by one. A wire had fully cut through his arm, slicing it off right through the bone.

The man finally died as all his wires sliced through him. Blood poured from the slices, staining the wall and metal gears with bright red. His body fell to pieces in the elevator corner. The elevator went back to a normal speed as the wires were more free to move with the gear. Waylon looked again, gulping at the bloody mess he saw. Eddie spat on the remains with satisfaction at his victory.

The elevator continued down to its designated floor. When it got close the gears started to screech when the wire had gotten too tight on it. It stopped halfway on the floor. The elevator was obviously not going to move anymore and both got off through the open space.

“Do you know where we are?” Eddie asked.

“Uh, I think so.” Waylon said, looking around. Waylon felt odd, something was off. It wasn’t because of what he just witnessed, he knew that.

“Something's missing.” Waylon said.

“Your bag?” Eddie said. Waylon felt sick, he didn’t have his camera with him.

“We have to go get it!” Waylon said, heading straight for a nearby stair case.

“Why?” Eddie asked as he followed.

“Its got my camera in it.” Waylon answered.

“So? I can easily find you a new one.” Eddie said as they headed up the stairs.

“Its also got my pills and food too.” Waylon said, he knew Eddie wouldn’t understand his camera and gave him a “better” excuse. Waylon stopped when he reached a missing part of the stairs. He got ready to jump, but Eddie stopped him.

“Let me go first.” Eddie said, pushing Waylon back slightly. Waylon allowed it, stepping back for Eddie. Eddie went and made it to the other side. Once Eddie was up Waylon ran for it. The boards beneath him began to collapse, he jumped early to escape from plummeting down and barely reached the edge. Eddie grabbed him and helped him up. Waylon looked back at the far away broken stairs.

“We'll have to find another way down.” he said, walking up the stairs. They got to the old observation dome from before. Waylon found his bag on a table, along with Eddie's confiscated knife. He put his bag on as Eddie pocketed his knife.

“Now how do we get down?” Eddie asked.

“There was a window on the stairs. We can get onto the roof.” Waylon said as he lead them back to it. The two got out the window and onto the roof.

“Careful.” Eddie said as they went up the steep roof. At the top was a small flat space that was only two feet wide. It went along the entire way of the roof and might actually cut some time on traveling.

Waylon's eye twitched again as the cold blowing air began to sting it. He took another painkiller from his bag as they followed the flat path. Waylon looked towards the sky in front of them. it was full of bright colors and the first few stars had begun to shown as the sun slowly set.

“Ah, stars. The closest man can get to heaven on earth.” Eddie said contently when he looked at them.

“How ironic, being that we're more close to hell then heaven.” Waylon thought. He looked over to the burnt down forest, looking for any sign of Murkoff.

“Nothing. Good.” Waylon thought. He needed as much time as he could get to escape. most the walk was silent, which Waylon was happy about, he really didn’t feel like talking at the moment.

“You know darling, I've been thinking about our marriage.” Eddie said in a delighted tone. Waylon got nervous, thinking about what in the marriage exactly. 

“Well, at least if I have to, I could push Eddie off the roof.” Waylon thought.

“Yeah?” Waylon said, hiding his nervousness.

“I don’t think I'll change you into a woman like I had previously planned. It was shallow of me to try and change you to seem better for me. instead of accepting who you are. I hope you can forgive me for it.” Eddie said sincerely.

“ I forgive you.” Waylon said, his nervousness being eased a little.

“I really wanted children though. Such a shame we'll have to miss that.” Eddie said with a sigh.

“…Yeah.” Waylon said to just seem like he agreed on the matter.

“But, we'll just have to move on.” Eddie said.

“Mhmm.” Waylon said, nodding.

The rest of the walk was silent. When the sun had gone down and night was fast approaching they found a window leading to a small, attic like, room area. Waylon sat down, letting out a exhausted sigh. He leaned against a few boxes near by and laid his head back. Eddie went out of the room to guard in front of the door, as always, while Waylon slept in peace.

The next morning

Waylon woke up, opening his eyes and squinting them at the bright light coming through the window. He noticed that snow was on the window sill and frost coated the glass. He slowly got up, feeling his stiff neck crack when removed from its position. He looked at the floor as he stretched and got up. He looked around and noticed Eddie had not awakened him like usual. Waylon went to the window and rubbed some fog away from it to see outside. It looked pretty late in the morning.

“Where's Eddie?” Waylon thought. He didn’t think he would leave, but he also didn’t think Eddie would miss waking him up.

He went to the door and slowly opened it. He saw Eddie standing close to the door with his head towards the ground. Waylon raised a eye brow.

“Eddie?” Waylon said. There was no answer, or even a reaction.

“What is he doing?” Waylon thought as he closed the door behind him.

“Eddie?” he repeated and walked in front of him. Eddie's eyes were closed , his arms crossed, and his breathing was slow.

“Is he...?” Waylon thought. He got close. “Are you awake?” Waylon asked. The lack of reaction confirmed Waylon's guess. Eddie was sleeping while standing up. It fascinated Waylon greatly. He heard it could be done, but he never really believed it could happen. He examined Eddie quickly up and down, as if he could learn how to do it. When he accepted that he couldn’t he decided that Eddie should wake up now. The thought of sleep walking came to mind and that he should wake him gently.

Waylon reached out slowly, leaning the rest of himself away just encase Eddie didn’t react well. He poked him lightly on the shoulder. Right after Eddie stood up straight and awake with a tense posture like he was ready for something. He looked at Waylon and his posture relaxed. The reaction interested Waylon. 

“Is that a normal reaction for any standing sleeper or just for Eddie?” he thought.

“Its morning. Time to go.” Waylon said.

“Ah. So where do we go?” Eddie said, uncrossing his arms.

“I don’t know exactly where we are right now. So we need to get back down stairs. I might know where we are then.” Waylon said.

“We should start looking for stairs then.” Eddie said as he walked down the hall. Waylon followed, he was interested to know how Eddie could sleep stand. Questions were buzzing through his head about the subject.

“You can sleep stand?” Waylon asked.

“Yes.” Eddie said.

“How long have you been doing it?” he asked.

“A long, long, while.” Eddie sighed. Waylon paused, he didn’t want to agitate him.

“…How did you learn?” Waylon asked. Eddie stopped.


	8. Memories

Waylon stopped a few feet behind him and swallowed hard. Did he say something that set Eddie off? Eddie was silent, he took a long deep breath.

“...I didn’t learn it. It was a reaction caused by horrendous... conditions… when I was younger.” Eddie said, continuing to walk. Waylon didn’t say anything, he knew Eddie's past was a very delicate subject. Something that should definitely not be surfaced in conversations.

“It would make sense if he developed it as a way to survive. He probably couldn’t sleep well, and when he did sleep he had to be on high alert in his environment.” Waylon thought.

“So, how was your life doing?” Eddie asked. Waylon was unsettled by the question. He didn’t want to go revealing his personal life. Especially any addresses or that he was married and with children.

“Umm, I was doing fine. I had a house and lived comfortably.” Waylon said, keeping it general.  
“Was.” he thought.

“Where did you live?” Eddie asked.

“A small two story house in a nearby town.” Waylon said, avoiding certain details and addresses.

“What was the town?” Eddie asked. Waylon thought of how to answer that, then he comprehended something.

“ I…I don’t remember.” he said, looking towards the ground. He had actually forgotten his town's name. His heart felt heavy. How could he forget? He went through other things to try and remember. Each one made his heart feel heavier and heavier as he was unable to. He couldn’t remember his home phone, his home address, the school his boys went to, even the names of his actual boys were forgotten.

“How could I forget them?” Waylon thought. It made him feel horrible. What kind of father was he to forget his kid's names?

He wanted to remember more of them, but found he was unable to. He couldn’t imagine their faces. Remember their age or their birthdays. He grew pale as he began to feel sick.

“How did I forget?! Did the engine do this to me? Corrupt my memories? Or has all the trauma caused me to lock them away to save my sanity?” Waylon thought. He had been too in thought to notice Eddie was talking to him. He had stopped and Waylon walked into him. Waylon backed up and looked up at him, seeing Eddie staring at him with a serious expression.

“You're sick again.” Eddie said to him. Waylon took in a breath of air to get himself better again. Waylon thought he was just stressed and it would soon pass.

“no, I am fine.” Waylon said.

“You're pale.” Eddie said. Waylon swallowed hard, he was feeling sick and the feeling wasn’t going away like he expected it to.

“I am fine.” he said the words coming out a bit slurred. That really didn’t help his argument. He wasn’t sure what was happening. He felt truly sick, but he didn’t feel that way a little while ago. Eddie stepped towards him, reaching his hand out towards Waylon's face. Waylon stepped back, not wanting to be touched.

Eddie frowned at his action, dropping his hand. Waylon was breathing in a lot of air and swallowing often, trying to make himself better. He felt light headed as the room grew hot. He looked off to the side, standing up as straight as he could to bluff being well.

“You're sick.” Eddie said. Waylon shook his head and took a deep breath.

“I am not.” he said, making sure his words weren’t slurred this time. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“ …Maybe you should lead. You might find the stairs faster then me.” Eddie said, challenging Waylon's bluff. Waylon frowned at him and Eddie returned it with a smile.

“Smug bastard.” Waylon thought. He took a deep breath.

“Fine.” he said, slowly taking a few steps forward. He found it more challenging then he thought to walk. He took a few more steps before he had to stop, his lightheadedness getting to him.

“Stopping already? Need a rest?” Eddie teased.

“Now he's just finding this funny.” Waylon thought in anger.

“No.” Waylon said, avoiding his anger. He continued to take steps.

“You can rest if you want.” Eddie said, slowly walking next to him.

“I don’t need to rest.” Waylon said.

“Sure you're not sick?” Eddie said, he walked a little faster, getting more in front of Waylon.

“…I thought I was supposed to lead?” Waylon said, ignoring his question. He stopped walking to catch his breath for a moment.

“You can walk a little faster, can't you? It shouldn't be a problem for you.” Eddie said with a smile. He was upping the challenge on Waylon's bluff. Waylon just wanted to punch him for that.

“Sure.” Waylon said in a bitter tone with a fake small smile. He walked a little faster, fighting back the lightheaded feeling he was getting.

“Doing alright?” Eddie asked. Waylon opened his mouth to answer with something, but stumbled forward instead. Eddie was quick to catch him from falling, holding him up in his arms. Waylon just let out a low growl, getting his footing again. He pulled back to get away from Eddie's hold, finding himself unable to. He positioned his footing a bit differently and pushed on Eddie's chest to try and escape his grasp again. Eddie just tightened his hold forcing Waylon against his body.

Eddie shifted him to be held by one arm so he could touch Waylon's forehead. Waylon flinched away from the touch, not wanting to be touched, and trying again to push away from Eddie.

“You're really hot.” Eddie said. Waylon let out an aggravated sigh of defeat and dropped his forehead onto Eddie's chest, going limp.

“Come on.” he said and picked up the limp Waylon into his arms. Waylon hated this, he didn’t want to be touched by him and he hated showing weakness in front of him too. Waylon leaned his head away from Eddie's chest, glaring at his hands that he had resting on his stomach, he wanted to avoid all eye contact.

Eddie walked down the halls, checking any rooms he came upon. When he had found an office room with a large couch, he had gone and laid Waylon on it. The room was small, with a couch stretching the wall opposite of the door. Behind the couch was a large window, stretching half its length, covered in frost. An office desk to the side with a large office chair. Behind the desk was a large book shelf, full of books. And in the corner next to the door was a plant and a small couch chair.

Waylon continued to avoid eye contact, deciding to just stare out the window at nothing in particular. His eyes wandered from a dead tree to the roof in front of the window. Most of the snow on the roof had melted, leaving puddles of water.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about being sick.” Eddie said, assuming Waylon's irritation was towards his illness.

“Nothing to be ashamed about.” Waylon mocked angrily in his head. He rested his head on the cold window, feeling a little better as it cooled his fever.

“I don’t have time to be sick. Murkoff's getting closer and closer everyday. They could be here tomorrow for all I know. I still have two major parts of the building to pass through and I’ve wasted enough time.” Waylon thought. All the thoughts of Murkoff returning gave him horrible anxiety. At least when they were walking he felt confident that they were escaping, keeping the anxiety away. He began to feel worse and just rested his head on the window sill.

“I am being held hostage now. By my illness and Eddie. I have to continue, if this isn’t gone by the next morning I am going to leave this room. Whether Eddie allows me to or not.” Waylon thought. Since he couldn’t do much else, he went through plans in his head on what to do when he escaped.

“Eddie will be tough to get rid of. I also don’t know if he's really changed on that “honest women” thing. I don’t know how much time I have to escape from him, when free, to avoid that. I could try and lose Eddie when we get close to the exit, or maybe I could get him arrested by passing through a town. I am sure cops wouldn’t ignore someone with blood all over them. Course that might mean I'll get arrested to.” he thought and looked at his blood stained sleeve.

“But that means that I'll be kept separated from him, at the station, and I could call-… dammit.” he thought, chucking out the idea when he remembered he had forgotten his phone number. He knocked his head against the sill in frustration.

“That won't help you get better.” Eddie said seriously.

“Oh, he's still here.” Waylon thought, expecting Eddie to have just guarded the door. Waylon moved his head slightly so he could just barely see Eddie out of the corner of his eye. He saw him relaxing back in the office chair behind the desk, watching the door. After seeing where he was, Waylon turned his head back.

“Maybe I could hijack a car. Or smuggle myself onto a train. I'll need to get him away first. This is also based on if I am not horribly injured, I could be getting out with a broken leg or hobble out after being stabbed.” he thought. He stretched a bit, wincing as he felt his shoulders were sore.

“Who am I kidding? I don’t even know if there is a fucking train around here. I have an equal chance of hitching a ride on a helicopter. I am going to be escaping through the mountains too. Snow and freezing cold, following the river might lead to a town or at least a house. I'll need to loose Eddie if I do find one. I don’t trust him to keep the residents alive or for me to not wake up with him castrating me.” he thought. He noticed Eddie getting out of the chair and leaving the room. Waylon let out a sigh, feeling he could relax a bit more.

“Geez, Lisa, if you could see where I am now. What I've gone through, the things I've seen. The man I am with and what he's capable of doing. Be sure to make Murkoff pay, have Jeremy be shut behind bars for the rest of eternity. If you find my body, you’ll at least find it off the asylum grounds. Hopefully in one piece and untouched.” he thought, feeling tired as the thoughts ran through his head. He closed his eyes feeling tired, before he knew it, he fell asleep.

Hours later

Waylon opened his eyes, scared by a loud boom and a flash of light. There was a pouring thunder storm out side. Waylon let out a nervous breath of air, calming down from his jump. He looked around for Eddie, he was still gone. Waylon was thankful for that. He noticed that he was covered in blankets.

“Must have gotten these while I slept.” Waylon said quietly. He looked back out the window, watching the rain pour down the glass. A flash of lightning lit up the dark room, and revealed a tall figure on the roof. The dark shadow was standing close to the window with a knife, grinning at him with crooked teeth. Waylon's breath got caught in his throat and he stumbled away from the window to the other side of the couch.

He breathed heavily in fear, thinking of if he should look again or not. He stayed at the other end of the couch, catching his breath. He slowly went to the edge of the window and looked. Another flash of lightning lit up the asylum. The bright light triggered a strong pain in Waylon's head like he was just shot with a bolt. He closed his eyes, jumping back to the other side of the couch.

He hyperventilated as panic was creeping in on him. He opened his eyes, feeling nauseated as the room was spinning in his vision. He looked around the room with wide eyes, taking deep breaths. His body was shaking uncontrollably.

“What the fuck happened?!” he said. He took a few deep breaths to stop hyperventilating. It worked until another flash of lightning lit up the room, stimulating the engine. The painful bolt in his head returned along with the hallucination of a rotting corpse leaping at him. He jumped from his spot on the couch, his body going into a survival mode. He stumbled into the couch chair in the corner, smashing it into the wall, and fumbling around it.

He looked around the room, his body locking into a fight or flight mode. Everything was becoming distorted. Blood seemed to appear, foreign shapes and beings closing in on him. He felt trapped, standing in the corner behind the couch chair. he began to claw and hit at the walls beside him, desperate for an escape. The noise of a door knob clicking open grabbed his attention.

A creature had entered the room. It turned its head to look over at Waylon, who froze in the corner. Waylon saw a huge dark disturbing monster. It had a split jaw full of thin sharp teeth, skin that was leaking blood, and was made entirely out of black writhing leeches.

The creature stepped towards him, leaving behind a trail of blood and leeches falling from it. Waylon freak out at the creature stepping towards him. He quickly backed away from it against the wall, knocking the chair aside and cornering himself against the long couch.

“Leave me alone!” Waylon yelled in terror at the creature.

The creature spoke some mutilated words at Waylon. The words being distorted with his brain unable to register them in its terror stricken state . The creature stepped forward again after no reaction from Waylon. Waylon's eyes went wide and he looked at the only escape, from the corner of his eye, the window. The creature saw the obvious glance and lunged at him. Waylon ran for the window, getting stopped when he was yanked back.

He was forced down onto the couch. Waylon became desperate for an escape, he began thrashing around still aiming to get out the window from the monster. The figure grabbed one of Waylon's arms with one hand, also pinning the other underneath the same arm. it pushed it's free arm down on Waylon's neck, depriving him of oxygen and forcing him to relax his body. When Waylon stopped thrashing, with his body threatening to pass out, the arm was removed from his neck.

Waylon coughed, relaxing back into the couch, his body unlocking from the fight or flight mode. The rooms distortion slowly turned to normal, the monster made of blood and leeches turning to something more normal. It didn’t last long when another flash of lightning exploded. The engine sparked more disturbing hallucinations of bugs eating him alive.

he thrashed again, trying to get the “bugs” off.

“Get them off! Get them off!” Waylon said rapidly, brushing his arms and his body rapidly. The person pinned him again, noticing his reaction to the bright light.

The figure kept him pinned until Waylon was, once again, calm. When he was, the figure sat him up on the couch and covered him in a blanket to block his sight. Waylon was moved over to the dark end of the couch. he was trembling and leaned against the cold wall, unmoving, he was too afraid that he might be attacked by what ever was sitting near him. The extreme stress of his brain made both his mind and body exhausted, He fell asleep against the arm rest in a few minutes.

The next morning

Waylon painfully awoke, his body feeling like he did an extreme workout. His body hurt greatly when he started to move. He grabbed the blanket to pull it off him, hissing and dropping it when he felt pain in his fingers. Eddie, who was sitting next to him, jolted awake from hearing Waylon. He had fallen asleep next to Waylon. Waylon leaned away from him, just now noticing him sitting there. the closeness was making him feel uncomfortable. Eddie looked at him in a collected expression.

“No more hallucinations?” Eddie asked. Waylon just gave him a confused look.

“Hallucinations?” Waylon thought. He ran through the last few memories he had. He was looking out the window, then a flash of light, a guy on the roof, panic, then hazy images of blood, fear, and creatures.

“Ooh… fuck.” Waylon thought, slowly looking away.

“Eddie was that leech thing and witnessed the engine's effects on me. What kind of story could i make to cover this up?” Waylon thought. He found himself trapped. He couldn’t walk away like normal. Couldn’t scoot away with Eddie right next to him and the wall on the other side.

“What happened?” Eddie asked the inevitable question. Waylon tensed.

“ I…I overdosed. On painkillers.” Waylon lied. Eddie's arm that stretched the top of the couch, behind Waylon, tapped its fingers. It made Waylon nervous and he dared not look to see Eddie's expression.

“You'd be dead then.” Eddie stated. He couldn’t hear a tone or any sign of if Eddie was angry with him or not. Waylon's voice was caught in his throat, he couldn’t hide it now, he had no more excuses or an escape.

“…Its because ... of the engine.” Waylon said, being almost a mumble.

“Oh... that.” Eddie growled. He took in and let out a deep breath. Waylon stayed tense, being unknowning of what Eddie might do.

“I know the effects of that. You must have suffered through it a lot to affect you like this.” Eddie said. Waylon nodded.

“You should probably sleep. After all that happened last night.” Eddie said, getting up and leaving the room. Waylon sighed a big breath of relief once he was alone. Waylon looked down at his hands, then at his fingers, the tips had been roughly rubbed away. They were covered in a small amount of dry blood from last night.

“…Can't make it out of the room now. Too sick, exhausted, and sore. Can't get past Eddie either. He would just tell me to get back inside. Should probably just sleep now. It would speed up my healing and I'll sleep through most of it. Eddie better not try to fix the engine effects in my brain by cracking my skull open. He seems to know the effects of it though, and therefore must know there’s no fixing it.” he thought, accepting the defeat. He grabbed the blanket, being careful of his fingers, and curled up on the couch in it. He rested himself on the armrest and covered his head to block the morning sun.

Throughout the day he had drifted in and out of sleep. Sometimes he saw Eddie in the office chair near by, most of the time he was gone though. When the sun was getting close to going down Waylon had fully awoken. The soreness of his muscles being not as bad as this morning. He sat up on the couch and looked out the window. The sky was full of dark clouds, the sound of roaring thunder echoed through the air. There was a flash of lightning. It caused a twinge of pain in Waylon's skull. The flash was not bright enough, with the sun out, so it didn’t cause a major stimulation for the engine.

Waylon groaned at the thought of facing another night of hallucination terrors. He just wanted to leave this place. He jumped at the door opening. He looked back seeing Eddie come in with a table sheet and two forks in hand. Waylon raised an eyebrow at him.

“What the hell is he doing?” Waylon thought, paranoia coming into his mind. Eddie walked up to the window and held a corner of tarp up over the window. He held a fork tightly in his hand and stabbed it deeply into the wall through the sheet. Waylon was startled by that, he didn’t expect him to be able to do that. Eddie repeated his action, stabbing the other fork into the other corner. Waylon stared at the forks in shock, he felt intimidated at the thought of how much force it must have taken to stab those so deeply into the wall.

“that wall has to be made out of fucking concrete.” Waylon thought, still staring at the forks. His attention on the forks was broken away by Eddie.

“That sheet should keep the flashes out of the room.” he said, sitting down in the office chair.

“Where did you find the forks?” Waylon asked, his mind still stuck on them.

“I wandered around the floor and found a staff lounge. It had a table covered in a sheet, a small kitchen, and some drawers containing forks and spoons. I saw the clouds outside and thought best to cover the window.” he said. Waylon looked at the makeshift curtain, his attention returning back to the forks.

An hour passed, the sun had fully gone down turning to night again. A storm was raging outside. The flashes were mostly blocked, only lighting up the sheet, unlike last time. Waylon was high strung with the lightning flashing the window. He was afraid the hallucinations would come back at any moment. He was fidgeting with the camera in his hands, he brought it out of his bag to keep himself calm.

“why do you keep that camera? It's obviously beyond repair.” Eddie spoke from the darkness. His voice made Waylon jump, in his nervous state he had forgotten Eddie was there.

“Memories.” Waylon said, it was the first thought that came to mind.

“Of what?” Eddie asked. Waylon wondered that question himself.

“Memories of my family? …No, the camera was never involved with my family. It was involved with my survival.” he thought, looking at the busted item. After everything he's been through, the only thing that lasted with him was his camera. Even if it could no longer work now, it still existed enough. The camera reminded him of himself.

“Tortured and tormented, but still existing.” he thought. He remembered Eddie was still waiting for an answer. “A lot of things.” he said, tracing his thumb along a curve in the camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes! figured out how to post pics. can now add the chapter title cards. for now most are the same, except for ch 6 & 7s title card. different title cards will be added with future chapters. =]


	9. Lead the way

Waylon had been holding his camera all night. The anxiety of hallucination terrors arriving, disappeared when he had passed out from mental stress. Waylon opened his eyes as the blaring sun showed over him, squinting them when it stung his eyes. He rubbed his face, being careful of the gash near his eye. He ran a couple of fingers over the gash feeling that it had scabbed.

“Still seeing red.” Waylon thought, referring to his injured eye. He looked towards the office desk, tensing up when he saw Eddie holding his camera. He stared at the camera.

“Why do you have that?” Waylon asked in a neutral tone. He avoided showing the tenseness in his voice.

“You fell asleep with it. So I moved it.” Eddie said.

“Can I have it back?” Waylon said. The question being borderline of a demand. Eddie set the camera down on the desk, allowing Waylon to grab it. After having it back in his hands, Waylon's tense body relaxed. The camera was back being safe with him. He returned it back to the bag, switching out with a jar of jerky. He split the jerky again with Eddie, and calmly ate on the couch.

“We have to leave today.” Waylon said after finishing his food.

“You're still sick.” Eddie said.

“I am healthy enough.” Waylon said.

“That still means you're sick and shouldn’t walk around, making it worse.” Eddie said. Waylon held in his frustration.

“Tomorrow then.” Waylon said, a hint of stress in his voice.

“Maybe.” Eddie said, getting up to stretch slightly. His back cracking at the movement.

“ I don’t want a maybe.” Waylon thought angrily. He stared out the window, not wanting to talk with Eddie anymore. Eddie left the room to go watch the door again, leaving Waylon to do as he wished.

Waylon scanned the outside. He examined a dead tree nearby, scanned the roof, and looked at the field of ashes. His interest perked as he saw movement in the fog. He slowly sat up to look more out the window. Through the separated fog drove a large military truck, going down the road of worn tracks dug into the dirt.

“No.” Waylon said, the sickness spiking up in his body. He shook his head in denial as the truck turned away. The words “Murkoff Security Enforcement” flashing into view before disappearing out of his line of sight. This time Waylon wasn’t prepared for his stomach when it reacted violently. He quickly forced opened the window, barely making it before releasing his stomach out the window. Waylon heard the door open with Eddie walking up behind him.

“Are you alright?” Eddie asked as he removed the curtain.

“ I saw a Murkoff truck.” Waylon said between coughing and spitting.

“What?!” Eddie exclaimed. He leaned out the window, searching for the truck. Waylon left the window, grabbing his bag and fleeing the room. Eddie ran after him, catching up to him in the hall.

“Where are you going? You're still sick!” Eddie said, grabbing Waylon. Waylon shook him off, refusing to be dragged back to the room.

“I don’t care! I'm fucking leaving! I don’t have time to stay and be sick!” Waylon said, rushing down the halls to find a stair case.

“Stop!” Eddie yelled, grabbing Waylon and yanking him back. Waylon fought to get free, unwilling to stop.

“Let go! I don’t have time for this!” Waylon yelled franticly. Eddie grabbed a hold of the front of Waylon's shirt, gripping it tightly in both hands.

“Stop it!” Eddie yelled and shook him. Waylon flinched and shut his eyes tightly, stopping any actions he was doing.

“What's wrong?” Eddie asked. Waylon took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Murkoff's coming with something, t-they spoke of resetting the projects and that...“arrangements” were made. I don’t know what they’ll do.” Waylon spoke in a jittery tone. Eddie hugged him close, rubbing Waylon's back to comfort him. Instead of comfort the gesture just made Waylon tense and uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry Love, I'll be sure to get us both out. You have nothing to worry about.” Eddie spoke with confidence.

“Can we find the stairs now.” Waylon said, wanting to be released as soon as possible.

“Alright, but go slow. I don’t want your illness to get worse.” Eddie said as he released him. Waylon straightened his clothes nervously as he walked on. He was able to find some stairs at the end of a large hall. A few floors down he recognized where they were.

“We are at the start of the second major building. It's the shortest one, so hopefully we'll get through it fast.” Waylon said while examining the area. He went through the map in his head, getting nervous as he realized they’ll be going through a lot of cell blocks.

“We need to go past the office halls to reach the cell blocks. Past all the cell blocks will be the way to the third building.” Waylon said, heading down the office hall.

“How many cell blocks?” Eddie asked, walking down the hall.

“Six. I think.” Waylon said, opening a double door.

“That’s only if we go straight though with no blockages to the doors.” he added.

“As if there won't be any.” Eddie said.

“If there are, we can just cut through-” Waylon spoke, being cut off as the wood floor underneath him collapsed. Most of him fell into the hole, stopping when he held tightly to the floor with his arms spread. Eddie rushed over to yank him back up. When Waylon was back on his feet he examined a few gashes he had obtained.

There was a 4 inch gash curving up his left arm, dripping out a small amount of blood. A few on his chest from the sharp floor boards stabbing into him. And a small gash at the front of his left leg with a small piece of floor board broken off in it. Waylon removed the piece, hissing in pain while doing so. He grabbed the alcohol from his bag to poor the last of it onto his gashes. After the bottle was emptied it was thrown aside.

“Damn, the floor didn’t look that rotten.” Waylon said, straightening his clothes a bit while examining more of the floor.

“A few more scars to have.” Waylon thought

“It isn’t rotten.” Eddie said, examining the hole.

“What?” Waylon asked in confusion.

“Some of the “breaks” are too straight.” Eddie said, pointing to a few of the boards. Some of them had jagged ends while others had almost a clean cut straight line. Waylon bent down to get close and examine the boards. The neatly broken boards had small thin cuts along the sides of them.

“they were cut by someone.” he said, standing back up.

“Why though?” he questioned.

“You might have found out if you fell through the floor.” Eddie said. Waylon looked down the hole, trying to see if something was there. All he saw was darkness. He convinced himself it mite be better to not know, based on the things he's already seen.

“Gotta watch where we walk now. There’s probably more cuts in the floor.” Waylon said, cautiously walking forward. He was happy to know he didn’t fall, he wouldn’t want a repeat of when Eddie fell.

They reached the end of the hall, coming up to the metal double door that separated them from the first cell block. Waylon felt sick at the thought of entering another cell block. With his clothes the patients would assume he's Murkoff staff like last time. It would make even the passive patients aggressive towards him. He went through them passing through a caged hall right after.

He let Eddie go first through the next metal door. he peaked inside from behind the door, to prepare himself of what he might face. Waylon was surprised to see that no one was in the cell block. His paranoia acted up again as he looked around the room for someone.

What made Waylon feel even more afraid was seeing a lot of blood, smears everywhere, but no bodies. There was a massive amount of smearing heading from around the room to the next cell block door. The blood was thick down the middle of the long block, looking like a twisted red carpet of sorts.

“What are you waiting for?” Eddie asked him, standing a few feet away.

“Don’t you notice something odd about this place?” Waylon said, looking around still from behind the door. Eddie looked around the block in a small head motion, then turned back to Waylon.

“No. what's so odd about it?” he asked.

“No one's here! And look at all the blood!” Waylon said.

“So? Why would someone want to be in here anyway? It's very unkempt.” Eddie said. He continued on, forcing Waylon to either stay behind the door or follow him. Waylon, not wanting to be separated from his escort, hurried to catch up with him.

Waylon fidgeted with his sleeves. He knew that at least one patient should be here. Cells were basically like safe havens for some patients. Some patients didn’t feel safe, wandering in the open. others just locked themselves in, eventually they would starve to death, being unable or unwilling to open the door.

The cause of the blood is what worried him most. Someone had been moving a lot of bodies. Why were they doing it and were they the cause of death. At least the blocks were large and spacious, easy to run or spot things moving around.

They walked down the long cell block, Waylon's steps echoing loudly as they hit the concrete. Eddie made no noise while walking, as usual.

“We should have seen someone.” Waylon said, his steps beginning to slow.

“Maybe there in the next block.” Eddie said. The sound of Waylon's steps stopped, it compelled Eddie to stop as well and look back.

“We have to keep moving.” he said. Waylon didn’t answer, he looked pale and stood frozen in place. Eddie let out a sigh as he walked back to Waylon. He went behind him and slowly pushed him forward. Waylon took a few steps, but didn’t continue farther then that. Seeing that he wasn’t going to continue on his own, Eddie continued to slowly push him forward.

Waylon dragged his feet a bit while pushing back. His paranoia and fear of the area getting the better of him. He was stopped in front of the door, having the decision of opening it left up to him. He knew they had to continue and hesitantly opened the door. The next cell block seemed as empty, and bloody, as the one they just passed through. Waylon peeked inside, slowly starting to move into the block.

He saw a person on the second floor walkway, the surprise of seeing someone made him jolt backwards. Eddie was unmoved by Waylon thudding into him and looked up to where Waylon's eyes were fixed. The person on the second story walkway ran down the block and through the second floor doors.

“I don’t like him.” Waylon said from behind Eddie. He didn’t like that there was only one person wandering the place. He knew they were going to be walking into something.

“Neither do I. But I am sure he can't do anything.” Eddie said, walking down the block. Waylon hated Eddie's confidence, sometimes he just had a bit too much of it.

“I am not going any further.” Waylon said. Eddie looked back at him.

“It's just one person.” Eddie said.

“No, there’s more then that. If we walk further we'll end up in the middle of it. There’s blood everywhere! But where's the bodies?! What happened to them?! Something is wrong!” Waylon said.

“The bodies were probably just moved.” Eddie said.

“But why?!” Waylon yelled. “The ONLY two reasons why bodies are moved are either to make them trophies or have their meat. With all the blood around I seriously doubt the bodies are in one piece. We should leave, it's not safe here!” Waylon said. Eddie stared at him with a bemused face. Waylon wondered if anything of what he said got through to him.

“…Lets say, if they are eating and hunting here. What should we do?” Eddie asked, looking at him. Waylon gave him a look of confusion, wondering why Eddie was even asking that. Since he assumed the answer could be concluded with common sense.

“We should leave this place and avoid them.” Waylon said.

“Now what does the room look like?” Eddie said, seeming to have changed the subject entirely. Waylon quickly glanced at the block.

“It's bloody.” Waylon said, not getting why Eddie was asking.

“And where did it all come from?” he asked.

“The bodies.” Waylon said, getting tired of useless questions.

“Te bodies are all gone now. So what does that make this room?” he asked, continuing his questions. Waylon paused, thinking for a moment.

“Empty?” Waylon said, shrugging his shoulders.

“See? It's better to continue then.” Eddie smiled. Waylon just shook his head.

“What? Because the room's empty? How does that make it better to continue?!” Waylon asked, being very confused by Eddie's horrible logic. Just because one block was empty, didn’t mean the others weren’t.

“You're not connecting it?” Eddie asked giving Waylon a disconcerting look.

“Connecting what?! That I should assume that just because this room's empty the cannibals wont be around here?” Waylon said.

“Exactly.” Eddie grinned at him. Waylon stared at him, unable to really answer to that.

“Maybe I should revise my questions.” Eddie said.

“Let's say instead that there’s a predator hunting here. What will it be looking for?” he asked.

“Food.” Waylon said.

“This room is empty, what's missing?” he asked, guesting to the block.

“The bodies?” Waylon said.

“And the bodies are?” he said, leaving the sentence open for Waylon to finish it.

“Food.” Waylon said.

“So if the predator is looking for food, and there’s no food in or coming to this area anymore. What will it do?” Eddie said. The questions all finally snapped into understanding in Waylon's mind.

“It’ll leave to hunt somewhere else.” Waylon said.

“yes, so wouldn’t it make more sense to walk through an area they assume is empty. Then to leave it and wander into their new hunting area?” Eddie asked rhetorically. Eddie confidently continued on, not at all cautious of what could be near. Waylon saw a bit of logic in Eddie's thinking, but he knew better then to fully believe what an insane person thought.

The possibility of, whoever was here being gone calmed him a bit. He was still paranoid and cautious though. He wanted to leave the area, but like Eddie pointed out they could be hunting somewhere else, so nowhere was really safe.

“What about that guy from earlier? He could be a scout for the others.” Waylon said.

“Then they probably have others watching out in different places. Sooner or later we would be spotted by one.” Eddie said.

“I guess, but what do we do when the hunters come?” Waylon asked. He wanted some sort of plan before anything showed up.

“Depends.” Eddie said with a slight nod of his head.

“Depends on what?” Waylon asked.

“You don’t need to worry about it.” Eddie said happily.

“You're some help.” Waylon thought as they entered the next cell block. Waylon stopped when he saw the blood bath of a room. Walls were bright red, coated thickly in blood splatters. There were signs everywhere that fighting had occurred in the room.

Nail scratch marks on the wall, some shredded patient clothing, some bits of bloody hair sticking to the wall, and a few broken teeth littered the floor.

“May not be cannibals.” Eddie said, looking at all the fighting evidence.

“There was a lot of fighting here. Wonder why.” Waylon said.

“Entertainment? Like a sport.” Eddie said, stepping through the old pools of blood. He was not disturbed or unsettled in the least by the sight.

“More of a Colosseum battle to the death.” Waylon said, being sure to avoid stepping in the blood puddles.

Unbeknownst to them, as they walked through the blood, they were being watched by two men in gas masks from the shadows. They were hiding in a far corner on the third level walkway.

“Think Barker would want them?” one whispered to the other.

“I think only one.” the other replied.

“He's been wanting more disciples.”

“They're not heading straight to the wall though, so they’ll have to pass the testing. If they do manage, then they will be appointed.”

“Shall I summon the other saviors?”

“Yes. Be sure to have them bring the shock rods. I am sure they will cause us trouble.”

One of the two figures silently left, the other one staying to watch the two.


	10. the Saviors

 

It was silent in the dark halls, the two walked through. They had passed the first three cell blocks and were now going through a recreational area. Waylon kept a watchful eye on his surroundings. He was still nervous, thinking that there could be cannibals. Although, he wasn’t as nervous as before, since he hadn’t seen any sign of anyone in the area.

“Maybe Eddie was right.” Waylon thought, following close behind him. Eddie stopped when he came to a cross in the halls, letting Waylon pass by to lead.

“Please don’t let anything be around here.” Waylon thought as he lead.

A quarter way down the hall Eddie stopped, turning to look behind them. He glared down the hall, having an agitated presence about him. Waylon stopped, tensing up in uneasiness.

“…What?” Waylon asked him in a whisper.

“A few people are moving.” Eddie said.

“Are they following us?” Waylon whispered.

“Not sure. They’ve been moving a bit unorganized.” he said.

“How many?” Waylon asked.

“I heard five, but two of them I've lost track of.” Eddie said, looking forward again.

“We should keep moving. I don’t want them catching up.” Waylon said, walking a bit faster then normal. Eddie nodded, regaining his calm state as he followed.

Waylon passed by a few crosses in the halls. Some of the halls being pitch black, unable to be seen down farther then a foot. He had no time to react when he was slammed into, by someone, from a side hall. A man bulked in a thickly leather outfit, and a gas mask had knocked him to the floor.

“Hey!” was all Eddie could yell before he was strongly jabbed in the side and shocked with a shock stick. He let out a yell and fell to one knee. He glared at the man, standing back up to attack him. He was shocked in the back by another, forcing him back down on one knee.

Waylon unsteadily got up from the floor, assuming that these were Murkoff personnel. He knew he had to run or he’d die, but something was stopping him from doing so. He was knocked back to the floor when he was deeply shocked in the side. His body locked up from the shock. He tried again to stand, stopping when the shock stick was pushed into his neck. He shut his eyes, preparing to receive massive pain in his throat.

“Don't move!” the order was yelled by the man holding Waylon down. Waylon opened his eyes from his spot on the floor. The order was not aimed for him, it was for Eddie. Eddie glared darkly at the men surrounding both them, a look of pure hatred forming in his eyes.

The man shoved the two shock stick barbs deeper into Waylon's neck, having him hiss out in pain as they pierced his neck. Eddie swallowed, relaxing his body with major regret at surrendering. Waylon knew they were caught, Eddie couldn’t do anything with Waylon's throat threatened of being shocked shut. Five of them were surrounding them now, four of them watching Eddie.

One of them yanked Waylon from the floor, pinning one of his arms back and holding a knife uncomfortably close to his spine. Waylon filched away from the knife when he was yanked away to be forced down the hall. He repeatedly dragged his feet to look back at Eddie. He didn’t want to be separated from him, he had no idea where they would both end up.

Waylon could now tell the five men weren’t Murkoff. They didn’t have the normal security uniforms, radios, or guns of any sort. Once Waylon was separated by ten feet from Eddie, they forced him up to move forward.

“They're making sure Eddie won't do anything by keeping me far and under threat.” Waylon thought. His thoughts were turned to where they might be going or what will happen to them.

“They don’t look like cannibals.” he thought.

“Did they do all the fighting? Trying to drag off unwilling victims for whatever plans they have.” he thought, more questions being raised than answered.

They were both silently escorted, being taken through the halls and the last three cell blocks. The last doors were opened to a huge holding area with two floors , multiple solitary cells crowding the walls, and a massive man made arena centering the entire thing. The walk ways were fenced in and the opening space in the middle was also fenced in to make a caged fighting ground.

Waylon looked down at the fighting pit, getting a few glances as he was pushed. Lots of blood splatters coating the ground, blood dripping down from the set chain link fence, drag marks from body’s being removed, and two entrances one on each side. Waylon was stopped and yanked to be turned around. The other men opened a cell door, forcing Eddie in to the small pitch black room.

They pushed Waylon forward to the opened door, stripping him of his back pack, and shoved him inside. The door was shut and heavily locked behind him. The only light able to come into the small room, was coming from underneath the door.

Waylon became distraught when his bag was taken away. He whipped around to face the door. Banging on it in desperation to get out to his bag.

“Give my bag back!” he yelled, punching the door in anger. His fists easily became sore from the rough banging. He needed his camera. He knew something would happen to him without it. A horrible injury, becoming diseased, crippled, or an agonizing death. He thought of how to escape the room, a plan coming to mind.

“Eddie, can you bash this door down?” Waylon asked, looking back at him. Eddie didn’t respond, he was frozen in the corner of the room with vacant staring eyes. Waylon's concern for him grew, he’d never seen him that way.

“...Eddie?” Waylon repeated, saying his name a bit quietly. Eddie stayed as he was, making Waylon nervous. He carefully approached him and slowly reached out his hand to touch him. He barely did when Eddie reacted violently towards him.

“Don't touch me!” he roared, taking a swing that almost clocked Waylon in the jaw. Waylon was a able to just dodge the strike feeling the swipe of air pass his face. Eddies arm forcefully hit the concrete wall with a earth shattering slam.

“That would have broken my jaw off!” Waylon's brain thought in shock. He quickly backed up to his side of the room again. Eddie was hyperventilating in his corner, his hands being permanently stuck as fists with his knuckles being pure white.

“Claustrophobic?” Waylon thought after calming himself down. He left Eddie alone after that attempt, unwilling to see how he mite react a second time.

Hours passed

Waylon stood in a corner next to the door avoiding Eddie. He felt exhausted and was resting himself against the wall.

“Sleep standing would come in handy now.” he thought tiredly. He wanted to sleep, his fear of the unknown past the door being the only thing stopping him. Eddie had stopped his hyperventilating, but his body was still high strung with fear. The only noise in the room was Eddies heavy deep breathing.

“Why didn’t I run? If they had been Murkoff, I would have died.” Waylon thought.

“…I couldn’t just leave Eddie. … that’s not good.” Waylon thought, he felt minor disappointment in himself.

“He's not someone to keep. He's just a...” Waylon thought, with it quickly dying. He couldn’t disconnect from Eddie like he used to. He had saved his life too much and made him feel too safe. He shut his eyes.

“I can't keep him! What will I do after I escape? Bring him home to Lisa? I am sure that meeting will go well. ''Hey Lisa, this is my new killer friend, and by the way we're getting married too!'' Isn’t that great?! Sure, that'll go so well.” Waylon thought.

“I am sure Eddie will be thrilled to meet my family as well. Especially my sons, since he wants kids himself, and he gave up the idea of having any when he “promised” not to change me.” Waylon thought, developing a headache.

Waylon jumped at the sound of the door unlocking. Eddie's slumped posture and void sight was slowly turning into something more tense and threatening. His body straightened with his muscles clenching up, ready to fight. Waylon noticed, his own body turning tense at the threatening image. The door opened, pooling in the light of the yellowed lamps in the ceiling.

Eddie bolted out of the room, slamming himself into the body of one of the men from earlier, who foolishly stood in the door way. They both crashed into the walkway fence with Eddie strangling the guy, intending to kill him. The other men jumped into the fight, shocking Eddie repeatedly till he fell to the ground. Waylon didn’t even see it all happen. He had scrunched himself into his corner and shut his eyes when Eddie bolted for the door. He didn’t want Eddie's aggressive attention turned onto him when he fled the room.

When he heard yelling and a thud, he opened his eyes again. He looked out of the room and saw Eddie panting heavily on the floor with burn marks on him where he was shocked. One of the men grabbed Waylon,yanking him from the room and away from Eddie. Waylon watched Eddie's tense posture disappear as he slowly got to his feet.

The two were quickly moved down to the first floor and pushed into the arena. The entrance behind them was tightly locked shut with thick, heavy, chains. Waylon took this small chance to talk to Eddie.

“You’re claustrophobic?” Waylon asked.

“hmm? No, I am not.” Eddie said with a confused look.

“Then why did you panic in the room?” he asked. Eddie was silent, looking in thought.

“ …What room?” Eddie questioned. Waylon's shoulders slumped as he gave Eddie an annoyed look.

“What do you remember last?” Waylon asked. Eddie was silent in thought again. Waylon was about to repeat his question when no answer seemed to be coming. He stopped himself when he saw Eddie turn pale and look sick. There may be more to the claustrophobia then Waylon thought.

“ …Eddie-” Waylon started, but was interrupted.

Both were taken from there thoughts from the sound of the other entrance opening. Another patient was shocked in. he angrily yelled at the men in masks and banged at the entrance, fixated on getting to them. Eddie moved Waylon to be behind him.

“Stay close.” Eddie said, pulling out his knife. Waylon nodded, not wanting to disagree. The patients attention, and aggression, turned from the door toward Waylon and Eddie. Eddie took a dew steps forward with his knife ready in hand. The patient yelled at him, aggressively heading for him after.

When the patient got close he took a swing at Eddie, missing. Eddie dodged it, being annoyed by the action. He grabbed the patients throat and stabbed into his side, just below his rib cage. He yanked the knife to the side to slice open the man. The patient struggled, letting out bloody gurgles before dropping to the floor dead.

Eddie lightly shook his knife, flicking off all the newly coated blood. Waylon was worried of what may happen now. He didn’t want to be taken back to the room, facing Eddie again with his claustrophobia. The silence of the arena was broken a minute later by the other door opening again. Another patient was pushed into the arena to face Eddie and Waylon.

This patient was bigger with a bit more brain. He took out his own weapon, a single blade from a broken pair of office scissors. Eddie was neither amused or threatened, just annoyed by the patients presence. Eddie let out a sigh, stepping forward again to challenge the new person.

The patient gave a smirk, liking the challenge Eddie was giving him. He walked forward till he was 5 feet in front of Eddie, beginning to circle him. Eddie made sure he kept himself between Waylon and the circling annoyance. The patient lunged at him. Eddie grabbed the patients armed hand and threw the patient into the ground, stabbing into his neck just below the jaw with absolutely no hesitance.

Eddie released him when the patient dropped his weapon to grab his injured neck. Blood poured out from the wound, seeping through and drenching his hand. He didn’t last long before bleeding to death on the floor. Eddie, again, flicked the blood off his knife.

A minute passed, and another patient was entered into the area. Eddie let out a growl, getting tired of these “games”. Waylon knew this mite be going on for a few hours. He looked around at the arena walls for a weak spot. It was built solid, with tightly chained links, no way to knock it down. The top was covered with more fence, no way to climb out.

Waylon could see more of those dressed men walking around. He counted out fifteen of them. Only five of them having shock sticks. most of them were standing around a large gateway. It looked mostly man made with extra fencing around it, extra locks, and chains.

“They weren’t here earlier. Why are they guarding the door?” Waylon thought, glaring at the gate with suspicion.

Eddie had killed three more patients, while Waylon looked around, now starting a small body pile. Instead of just one, three patients were now entered in at the same time. Waylon was getting nervous, Eddie couldn’t fight forever and he had his limits of how many he could take on at once.

Eddie backed up, getting the wall close behind him with Waylon in the middle. It would keep the three from circling or getting to Waylon. When they got close, Eddie walked against the walls with Waylon, making it a bit harder to surround them.

Two of them lunged forward. Eddie grabbed the first one to knock him back into the second. The third swiped at him, with a knife, a few times. Eddie punched him back, while blocking another's hit. He sliced his knife over the eyes of the closest patient, blinding him. The patient retreated back, yelling in pain while holding his bleeding eyes.

Another of the patients grabbed Eddie from the side to try and knock him over, but his stance was too steady to be moved. He grabbed the patient and slammed him to the floor. He smashed his boot down onto the patients throat, crushing it closed. The patient wheezed and gasped kneeling on the floor as he suffocated. Eddie kicked him down to walk over him, he grabbed the blind patient and stabbed him in the back of his skull. Killing the man instantly.

The last standing patient was terrified now. Both his friends being killed in less then two minutes. He ran away to the exit door, banging on the door, begging to be let free.

”Let me out! I did the tests! I passed! I don't want to be in the dead lands anymore! Get Barker! Please!” the man begged at the door, terrified for his life. Eddie's interest in his words made him pause in killing. he came up to him, grabbing him in a choke hold.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Eddie growled at him.

“The saviors take you to barker! Out of the dead lands to the wall!” the man choked out in panic.

“What saviors?” Eddie questioned.

“Them!” the man said, pointing to the men in masks. They looked very unhappy at what the man was mentioning. Waylon looked at them, noticing that half of them were gone. He looked around quickly to try and see where they mite have gone. finding out when he was grabbed by a few of them from behind.

Waylon struggled to get free, kicking and punching them. His struggling stopped when he was shocked in the ribs. He let out a yelp of pain that caught Eddies attention. Eddie released his prisoner to run and aid Waylon. He was stopped before he got too close. They threatened Waylon's life again, digging a knife into his throat.

Just like before, Waylon was taken away first then Eddie when space was made between them. They were both shoved back into the dark room. Waylon checked the door again for the possibility of opening it. Seeing none, he looked back at Eddie. He was just like before, high strung, tense body, and a vacant stare. He sighed, standing back into his corner with his head resting on the wall. The feeling of exhaustion came back to him.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, some place else in a nicely decorated room. A man was lying across a long couch. A few of the “saviors” surrounding him. A knock had come from the large double doors to the room.

“You may come.” a calm voice said. Another savior entered the room. The man watched him walk up and bow on one knee, standing back up afterward.

“We found one that meets your standards. The first test went easy for him.” the savior said.

“Really? You know I have upped the requirements. What makes him meet them?” the man asked.

“He's not hesitant, he gives no mercy, and he's smart. He doesn’t just attack or just kill his victims.” the savior explained.

“Perfect, just what we need for the disciples, some intimidation. It’ll teach them to follow more inline to what I speak.” the man spoke with delight.

“He's really aggressive. I don’t think he will follow, sir.” the savior said nervously.

“Nonsense. When I offer food and protection, anyone will follow. It is a man's natural instinct to find these things and follow anyone who offers them.” the man said confidently.

“If he lasts two more days, bring him here.” he said.

“He came with someone, should we bring him to?” the masked man asked.

“Is he as useful as the other?” the man asked.

“No, he's weaker and smaller.” the savior said.

“Just kill him. He won't be of any use.” the man said in a casual tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally at the halfway mark of the story. =]
> 
> come on Waylon!! iam sure if you begged your wife enough, she'll let you keep him. :D


	11. Broken bones and Blood clots

Waylon was going in and out of sleep, his paranoia keeping him awake. He would look at Eddie every now and again. He never moved or changed, his body being locked in tenseness. he sighed and looked down at the small amount of light coming from underneath the door. Waylon heard some commotion outside and his curiosity grew.

“Another fight?” he thought. He watched Eddie as he slowly got down to the floor to listen underneath the door. When Eddie didn’t move at his movement, he relaxed and listened at the door way. He heard multiple voices talking.

“No, he didn’t care for the other one.”

“So just kill him?” one voice asked. Waylon's chest grew tight.

“Yeah.” the first voice answered.

“How long do we keep the other one?” a third voice asked.

“Barker said that if he lasts two more days, then we bring him.” the first voice answered again.

“Only two days? I had to last a week.” the second voice said.

“Yeah, but you didn’t do well on the first couple of days. He cleaned the first round with no problem.” the third said.

“Shut up! At least I survived!!” the second snapped.

“Whatever, so should we kill that guy now or later?” the third asked.

“Eh, I really don’t want to do heavy work. Lets just leave him to the second shift.” the first voice said.

“Are they talking about us?” Waylon thought. He looked back up at Eddie.

“Eddie.” he said. He had to talk to him. They couldn’t stay trapped in here for a minute longer. Waylon was losing hope when he didn’t respond.

“ Eddie!” Waylon said more urgently, getting up from the floor. His urge to pace in the room grew with his nervousness. He took a deep breath to suck in his courage.

He slowly moved towards Eddie and reached out his arm to touch him again. He leaned his body away, calculating how Eddie might swing ahead of time.

“Eddie, I am going to touch you now. Okay?” Waylon said, wishing Eddie would be made aware if he talked to him before doing anything. Eddie's body straightened slightly at the word touch. Waylon considered that a bad sign, but hoped that it was actually a good one. He swallowed thickly and slowly moved forward. He lightly tapped Eddie on the arm.

The reaction was just as violent as the last. Eddie swung around, missing the dodging Waylon, smashing his fist into the near by door.

“Stay away from me!” Eddie growled deeply. Waylon was shaking from his spot against the wall. He looked at the door, seeing a small dent in the metal.

“Did you hear that?” Waylon heard a near by voice say from the outside. He tensed up when he thought they might check the room.

“Yeah, it's just the pipes. They always creak when it starts to get cold.” another voice said. Waylon felt relieved, the only time the oldness of the asylum actually helped him. He looked again at the door and pushed on it. thinking that maybe Eddie did some damage to it. It creaked, but did nothing more then that.

The door needed to suffer more punches to break or bend out of its frame. Waylon knew he couldn’t just have Eddie repeatedly punch the door though. The “saviors” would find out before they could break free and just move them. An idea came to his mind. If he could get Eddie to have a bad enough reaction, he could possibly bash the door down.

“ I can't do it now though. We would be swarmed when we're free. Id have to do it the next time they come to take us out. It would catch them by surprise and confuse them.” he thought, gaining confidence that his plan would work. The only major down side was why they would come back.

“They're going to come and take me out when the next shift comes. If I fail then they'll kill me.” he thought. The shift was an advantage too. The new saviors wouldn’t know Eddie's violent reaction when the door opens, or would possibly underestimate it.

“I have to find out when the shift is. Then I’ll just have to wait until then.” he thought. He returned back down to his spot near the bottom of the door. Listening to the conversations the saviors were having.

They talked mostly of non-useful things. It annoyed Waylon, he just wished to get the shift changing time and prepare to break free. After a while, Waylon had gotten impatient, tapping his fingers on the cold floor. He grew worried of whether or not the time will even be mentioned, or maybe it was and he just never noticed.

“Maybe I should do the plan now.” Waylon thought, breathing a little too quickly. He hadn’t noticed he was doing it till he felt his warm breath on his hand. He stopped, holding his breath to slow his breathing down.

“I need to stay calm. I can't mess this up.” he thought, taking slow deep breaths. He continued listening when he was calmed.

“Why do we still have to do this? He isn’t looking for disciples anymore and he has enough saviors already.” one voice grumbled.

“Why are you complaining? More workers means less work for all of us.” another voice said.

“More workers also means less food.” a third voice calmly said.

“Not like we can't get more. There’s never been a shortage.” the second voice argued.

“Food? What food?” Waylon thought as he listened.

“Barker usually let's us have three bodyie a day, and there’s always left overs.” the second one said. Waylon's heart jumped into his throat.

“They are cannibals!” Waylon said to himself.

“ I think barker wants to spread his influence. that’s why he's looking for more saviors.” the first voice said. The rest let out angry groans.

“That means he'll want us to reshape and rebuild the fucking wall.” the third said.

“ I heard it took a month alone to get the first section “perfect” for him.” the second said.

“You weren’t even here to help build. So shut your fucking mouth.” the third growled.

“Hey! Be happy that your behind the wall in the first place. At least were not scrounging for food or fighting anymore for it.” the first one yelled.

“I am more thankful to not be a disciple.” the second one said. They all laughed and happily agreed.

“ I still hate that shit he preaches to them though” the third said.

“It's just meant to give them false hope. Keep them in line.” said the first.

“ I think it's more then that. It's like he believes what he says is true.” replied the third.

“As long as he doesn’t make us say it. I don’t care.” the first replied back. They all went silent.

“What the hell is barker doing?” Waylon thought. Barker sounded like a cannibalistic religious nut from what he just heard.

“Just what I need. He's got a system working for him to. Guards, followers, and his own aggressive power.” Waylon said quietly.

“When's our shift? I want to eat.” one of the voices said

“You could take care of that extra one we have.” another said. Waylon's chest tightened up. He mite have to break out early now.

“No, I don’t want to fight my food. I just want to leave, eat, and go to bed.” the other voice grumbled. The other scoffed at his whining.

“Suck it up, we only have about ten more minutes.” the first said.

Waylon let out a breath he was holding in. he knew a time range now and had time to prepare. He stood back up, looking towards Eddie. He thought of how a simple touch caused him to smash his fists into the closest thing. 

“So if i do a much more major action, he would return it with a much more violent one.” Waylon thought. He would have to tackle into Eddie to get a big enough reaction to bash the door down. Waylon swallowed at the thought.

“Everything could go wrong if Eddie ignores the door.” Waylon thought. Images of being pounded into the floor flashing in his head. Waylon heard the sound of doors opening outside.

“The next shift.” Waylon thought, looking at the door. He took a few deep breaths. Preparing himself and sucking up some courage. Some talking was heard outside, some foot steps heading toward the door. The steps slowly got closer and closer. The light under the door disappeared when it was blocked by a figure outside.

Waylon felt that he should be more prepared before doing this. Maybe say some small prayer before he commits this suicidal act.

“Please, don’t kill me Eddie.” Waylon begged quietly. he took another deep breath before running and slamming himself into Eddie. Eddies body jolted from the sudden forceful contact. He let out a furious roar, taking a swipe at Waylon and charging forward.

Waylon jumped away, smashing his body against the wall as Eddie fiercely slammed into the door. The door was bashed down with the hinges snapping off from the massive force. The broken off metal door crushed the man who was standing in front of it.

Eddie attacked the next closest man with his knife. stabbing him relentlessly till his chest was slashed to pulp. Waylon looked out of the room, unfortunately finding that the first group had not left. They were running over to the aid of the others.

“Eddie.” Waylon said to grab his attention. He looked back to the spot Eddie was at. He was shocked to see that Eddie was hunting down others that had ran down the walkway.

“Fuck! He hasn’t snapped out of it!” Waylon thought. He bolted after Eddie, shouting his name out repeatedly. He ran and jumped over bodies to get over to him.

He made it half way to him before he was forced to the ground with the wind being knocked out of him. He struggled to get up, to fight the others off and free himself. As he got one off, another would grab him to pull him pack.

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Waylon yelled repeatedly. Everything was falling apart for him. He was being dragged off, most likely to soon be killed. Eddie was getting further and further away. still mindlessly attacking anything that moved. The engine kicked in with massive pain in Waylon's skull. 

The red flashes of hallucinations appearing. Half rotted corpses were holding him, ripping him apart. He saw his intestines being pulled from his body, his heart beating in his ripped open chest. His body locked up on him. His chest tightened till he was barely able to breath. He didn’t know what to do and did the only thing he was able to do at the time. Unsure if it would work or not.

“Eddie, they're going to kill me!” he yelled out with the last bit of oxygen in his crushed lungs.

“Shut up!” one of the men yelled. He punched Waylon harshly in the side of the face. The hallucinations stopped when Waylon's brain was knocked around in its skull.

Eddie's locked mind set of killing stopped when he heard Waylon's terrified cry. He whipped his head around with a look that could kill. The simple look Eddie gave them made the men fear for there lives. They grabbed, the barely conscious, Waylon up into their arms holding different parts of him so he couldn’t break away when he was carried off.

“Let him go you disgusting dog shit carcasses!” Eddie roared, running down the walk way and practically flying over body’s. There was a blockage of guys with knifes or shock sticks in Eddie's path.

He punched the first one, smashing his face in with some teeth flying. The second one, he smashed his skull into the wall. a sound resembling cracking old wood being heard. The third attempted to bring him down with a shock stick. He grabbed the stick, yanking it away to stab it into the guys neck. He turned the stick on, shocking the mans neck till a deep hole had burnt away half of it.

Eddie snapped the stick, in two, over his knee. A fourth man attacked him, swinging a knife at him. He knocked the man away with one part of the stick, having him fall to the side. When he was down, Eddie stabbed the two sticks through his rib cage. The man let out a dying yell as Eddie went past.

The very last man attempted to attack Eddie with a shock stick. Eddie blocked away the stick and grabbed his throat. He slammed him hard enough into the wall to make him release the stick.

“Where are they taking him!?” Eddie yelled down at the man. The other men got away with Waylon and he needed to know where to head straight away.

“Piss off!” the man growled. Eddie glared darkly at him. He reached down, grabbing the shock stick.

“Where are they!?” Eddie growled. The man just glared at him, refusing to answer. Eddie growled and stabbed the shock stick deeply into the mans crotch. The mans scream of pain was caught in his throat. He grabbed the shock stick to try and pull it out or grabbed Eddie's hand to try and be released.

“Where are they!?” Eddie yelled. The man didn’t answer, continuing his useless struggle. Eddie turned on the shock stick. It quickly burned through the mans sensitive area, giving excruciating pain. Eddie released the sticks trigger, allowing the man to gasp in some air.

“Where are they!?” he repeated.

“Barker, pass the wall.” the man choked out in pain.

“Where's the wall!?” Eddie said, shocking the man again.

“Follow the symbols on the floor!” the man screamed out in pain. Eddie shoved the stick deeper into the man, making it hard to be pulled out later. He dropped the man to the side, leaving him to his pain, running off to find the wall.

Waylon, meanwhile, was still struggling to break free from the few men carrying him off. his yells were muffled by a make shift gag. His body was getting tired from all the fighting. his face was swollen with a large bruise where he was punched earlier.

The men stopped when they reached a large metal door. The door was thickly layered with different metal sheets, barb wire, and long sharpened metal spikes. The spikes were made out of different pieces from chairs and gurneys from what Waylon recognized of them. They shifted Waylon in there arms so one of them could bang on the large door.

“Who knocks?” a voice yelled from the other side.

“Saviors with a broken wing and an outsider.” the one who knocked yelled.

“Broken wing and an outsider?!” the one inside exclaimed in surprise. The door creaked with the noise of multiple bolt locks being unlatched. When the door finally opened the men rushed inside. Waylon grabbed anything nearby to stop himself from being dragged inside. Finding it impossible to hold onto anything with him being yanked and pushed by four guys.

“Take him to the Bastille then report to barker!” one savior by the door yelled at the group. The group passed through a converted lab, which explained the bolt locking door.

The men dragged Waylon down the halls, past multiple standing saviors that infested the area. They went through a door way and stopped in front of a large hole in the floor. They set Waylon down to force him into the hole. Waylon pushed back, forcing his weight against him, but that only slowed them in pushing him in. with one more strong push, Waylon was forced down the hole. When he fell in, the top was covered with a thick slab of concrete.  
He fell down onto a hard concrete floor, laying there for a moment in pain. He undid the gag from his mouth, heavily coughing after. The smell of blood and rot quickly going into his nose when he breathed. He painfully looked up from his spot on the floor. jumping to his feet in fright when he saw a mostly skeletal rotting body, lying next to and, looking at him.

Waylon looked at his dark surroundings, He was in a small jail cell. He walked up to the bars and leaned against them to try and see around a wall. Leaning off them in disgust when he felt something dampen his shirt. He looked at the soaked spots, seeing lines of blood. The bars were dripping with it.

“Oh god, where the hell am I?” Waylon thought. Even with his vast mapping of the asylum he had no idea where he was. He was too busy fighting, yelling, and panicking to take in his surroundings.

He put his hand to the right side of his face, hissing in pain after feeling how swollen it was. He went over to the back of the cell to gently rest his face on the freezing concrete. He closed his eyes at the feeling of minor relief for now, in the morning it would be even worse. Waylon opened his eyes when he felt a minor breeze blow on his face. He reached out, feeling the wall, till he found a small opening. There was a small barred off window in the cell.

Waylon looked out the window, looking at the night sky filled with stars. He thought of where Eddie could be. He worried that something may have happened. Maybe he was locked in the solitary rooms again. If that happened then Waylon had no chance of survival. He couldn’t fight, especially now with all the saviors running around. He thought of what could happen to him.

“Eaten, tortured, shredded, beaten, stabbed.” Waylon listed in his head. He closed his eyes again, the feeling of sleep clouding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no one steals Eddies fiancee without living to suffer for it!!!


	12. Jacob Barker

a tall figure with black hair was standing in front of a moon lit window. He stood there quietly with perfect posture. The figure wore a long, tightly fitted, black robe with red lining. Wrapped around his neck was a deeply red stained scarf. The light glowed on his pale cold skin. He stood in place with his eyes closed, hands together by his finger tips at his stomach.

A knock came at the large double doors behind him. His shoulders slumped slowly from there perfect posture.

“you may come.” the calm figure said in a smooth and slightly deep voice. The door opened and a savior ran in panting. He quickly bowed to the moon lit figure, even when his back was to him, and stood up straight.

“ a wing has been broken sir. Lots of saviors were killed.” the savior said nervously.

“ how was it broken?” the figure said with a placid tone.

“ the newest fighter broke free with his companion.” the savior answered.

“ where are they now?” the figure asked. The savior swallowed in fear.

“ the strong one escaped, we don’t know where he is. BUT we have his friend, he mite be coming for him.” the savior said, quickly mentioning the captive.

“ hm, I assume the friends in the Bastille.” the figure said, turning half way towards the savior. He had bright, almost glowing, copper brown eyes that had a unhealthy yellow tint to them. The savior swallowed again, feeling the mans gaze bore into his soul.

“yes sir. … should we kill him?” the savior asked in a passive tone. The man felt a bit eased when the figure looked away from him to a far wall.

“ … no, leave him be. tomorrow move him to a lone room in the upper warrens. And give him a window.” the figure said a bit of pleasantness leaking into his tone.

“why?” the savior asked.

“you catch more with honey. If we are polite to our new guest and he joins. Then his friend will follow.” the figure said gladly with a small smile. He looked back at the savior, his expression and tone changing back to its placid state.  
“don’t let anyone harm him, and NO ONE can speak with him unless ordered by me.” the figure said. The savior fearfully nodded his head. The figure waved the man off, allowing him to leave the room in a rapid manner. When the savior was gone, the figure returned to his perfect forward posture.

* * *

 

*the next morning*

Waylon woke up with his face in pain just like he thought he would. He lightly rubbed the area to maybe get some relief from pain. He stood and looked at the small barred window. His attention caught by the sight of white snow. He went over to the window, grabbing a thick hand full of snow. He held it against his bruised face.

“better.” he thought when his hurting face slowly went numb. He looked around the cell again. Now that light was coming into the room, he could see where things were now. He looked at the cell door, examining the near by door lock. Waylon grimaced when he saw the key hole on the lock.

His eyes followed the bars up to the ceiling. There was a small space between the bars and the concrete. He scanned the long thin space, debating whether he could fit or not. He removed the snow from his numb face. wiping off the left over water from his face and off his hand. After drying off his cold hand he started to slowly climb the bars.

Just as he reached the space above the bars and started to squeeze through, he heard a door open. It was the door at the end of the hall. Waylon struggled out of the space and got back down to the ground away from the door. A savior walked up to the door to unlock it.

“come on, your being moved to a room upstairs.” the savior said to Waylon. The savior stood next to the cell door way, not threatening to come closer. Waylon stood at the end of the cell, thinking if he could escape. He considered his situation.

“unknown place, swarmed with threats. And that guy has a shock stick.” Waylon thought, looking at the stick in the mans hand. He didn’t want to, but saw no choice. He slowly came out, the back of his neck being grabbed by the man. Waylon flinched at the touch on his neck. It wasn’t painful or choking, but it was very uncomfortable to have a hand close to a weak spot. The man pushed him forward, guiding where Waylon should go by the grip on his neck.

Waylon was headed down halls, past multiple saviors and walking by the thick wall. He was led up a few flight of stairs, going into a third floor hall. He was pushed into a nice neat room, hearing the door behind him be locked.

The first thing Waylon noticed was the large window. He immediately went up to it and opened it. He felt some defeat when he saw bars going over the window. He looked down at a large courtyard covered in snow. All around there were small mounds in the courtyard. Waylon didn’t pay much attention to it.

“even without the bars I couldn’t survive the fall.” he thought, he looked up to see if he could even be able to reach or climb to the roof without bars.  
“not even.” he said quietly. Not seeing anything he could grab or climb up. He looked down at the bars and started to scoop what little snow was on them into his hand. He put the snow back onto his face, numbing the pain again.

“at least the swellings gone down.” Waylon thought. He was also aware that his injured eye wasn’t seeing much red anymore. The red was more of a light pink tinge or non existent in some areas. His thoughts wondered to where Eddie mite be. He never saw what happened to him and worried that he was caught.

Waylon worried for himself to. They moved him away from the bloody cell and into a nice room. Maybe they figured since hes here they mite as well keep him. He looked a little more at the room, since his attention was all taken by the window at first. It was a small organized room with a neat bed, a desk and a chair.

His head looked at the door when he heard it open. A savior walked in and set a plate of raw meat down onto the desk. Waylon looked away from the plate, knowing exactly what kind of meat it was. The strong smell of it filling the room wasn’t helping his stomach stay down.

When he was left alone in the room, with the plate, he grabbed it without looking at it. Brought it to the window and let the meat slide off the plate to fall to the ground. He swallowed when he heard the disgusting splat of the meat hitting the hard snow below. He looked down at the far ground below, seeing the bright red splatter on the snow with the chunk of meat in the middle.

He shivered at the sight, placing the plate back where it was. He threw the last of the snow in his hand out the window, drying his face and hand. He held the window open to let the smell of blood and raw meat air out of the room. holding his breath through most of it. When the room was finally aired out, Waylon sat on the bed taking in a deep breath.

The inactivity was making Waylon anxiety grow again. It lead to him thinking about Murkoff. How many more trucks and supply’s of there’s had arrived. Maybe they were moving into the building right now. His time could be up already. His anxiety made him pace the room. He kept looking out the window as if he’d see some Murkoff soldiers coming. Time flew by as he paced the room. Morning turned quickly to afternoon. He was startled when the door swung open with a savior entering.

“Barker wants to speak with you.” the savior spoke. Waylon didn’t say anything and just went where he was taken. He really had no say or anywhere to run to. It was best not to cause trouble while being trapped.

He was lead back downstairs to a room at the back of a long hall way. Two saviors stood next to the large doors with shock sticks. The savior let Waylon stand alone as he knocked on the door.

“you may come.” a smooth and slightly deep voice said from behind the door. The savior opened the door, pushing Waylon in and shutting it after. Waylon looked at the door in surprise. He was sure that the savior would actually escort him in.

“ah, my guest is here.” said the voice that used to be behind a door. Waylon looked forward towards the voice. He saw a man standing at the back of the room with a straight posture.  
“come forward.” said the man with a gesture for Waylon to come near. Waylon felt incredibly uncomfortable about getting any closer. He did it anyway, not wanting to make his host upset.

The room they were in was nicely decorated and very neat. There was a long black dining table to the side. Red curtains, many windows on the wall near the table, red carpet with swirling designs, and a few black couches. The only down side was the massive part of the man made wall being the left wall. The room must have been much larger, but was cut in half for some reason.

“iam sorry for how my men treated you. Things can be a little ... hectic around here and nerves can rise.” the man said, his tone having a hint of pleasantness to it. Besides the man there were four saviors standing in the room against the major wall to the left.

“ … sure.” Waylon said, not wanting to be trapped in awkward silence.

“ my name is Jacob Barker. What is yours?” Barker asked.

“ Waylon.” he said. Something was odd about Barker, excluding the basic abnormal things. His skin was pale, his eyes were very yellow, and he did short pauses when talking to take some breaths. Waylon recognized them as symptoms of a disease. Hed only seen it one other time, but the symptoms were obvious.

“ you have anemia?” Waylon asked. Barker, who had been talking and slowly pacing, stopped. His calm expression turned to something cold. The saviors against the wall tensed, turning there heads slightly towards Waylon. The reaction made Waylon nervous and wish he had kept his mouth shut.

“ … very observant of you.” Barker said, his cold expression turning to something of slight amusement.  
“would you like a tour of the place?” Barker offered.

“yes.” Waylon said. He thought that maybe he could find some sort of weakness while walking around.

“ excellent. I shall show you around and afterward we can join my company in the hall.” Barker said happily as he grabbed a nearby cane resting against the wall. He walked up next to Waylon and gestured him to follow as he passed.

Waylon felt a little less intimidated by Barker with a cane. Barker walked fine, but his anemia made him easily breathless. He wasn’t going to let his guard down though. The most polite people in this building were the worst of all. Waylon followed a few steps behind. Behind him were two saviors that followed the both of them.

“make sure I wont do anything to Barker.” Waylon thought, glancing back at them. He examined the places they passed through, counting how many saviors he saw and looking at the large wall from afar.  
“no way Eddies breaking through that, or get very far if he did.” Waylon thought. The only entrance was through a converted lab with a bolt lock door. Bolt locks always needed a key card.

Waylon and Barker had been walking for a little while, with Barker constantly talking about things. Waylon fazed out most of it, only tuning in to confirm a random question. When the tour ended they went down a long hall to some large double doors with a nailed broken bloody cross over them.

Barker gestured for Waylon to open the door. He did, opening the doors to a small assembly hall with rows of seated patients. It was set up to be like a church. Two large rows of multiple seats, a walk way down the middle from the door to a stage. A few saviors stood along the walls.

“ come, I have a seat for you.” Barker said with a small smile as they walked down the aisle. Everyone had there heads down with there gazes towards the floor. The room was only lightened by multiple candles lining the walls, the room was absolutely quiet. It all gave the room a calm essence, but Waylon was still a bit nervous.

“sit there. Iam sure my disciples wont mind. Will they?” Barker said, the last part being a question towards the seated men.

“no sir.” the row answered, not daring to glance at Waylon or Barker.

“good.” Barker said happily, leaving Waylon as he went to the stage. Waylon nervously sat down in the one empty seat in the entire place. The seat was in the middle of the section on the right side of the room. Waylon looked around at the different patients. Non of them had there eyes open, all looked at the floor, and all had there hands held tightly together.

Waylons brain warned him that despite the calmness of the room, something was dangerously off. He had to ignore the feeling, there was nothing he could do to fix it. While Waylon was looking at his surroundings, Barker had called someone up onto the stage. He started paying attention to what was happening on stage.

“ recite it.” Barker said. he was slowly pacing behind a disciple that was sitting on his knees on stage, looking to the floor. The patient took a deep breath before speaking.

“As the alpha species, we must hunt. We must hunt all things to survive, including our own kind.” the patient spoke. The “prayer” made Waylon uneasy. Barker had closed eyes with a look of proud satisfaction, as he listened to the words.

“We must hunt and devour the weak. The weak will feed us their meat-” the patient said, stopping suddenly at a mistake he made. Barker stopped in his tracks, and everyone around Waylon tensed. The calmness of the room was sucked out, being replaced with a heavy feeling of dread.

“ … what did you say?” Barker said, giving a dark glare at the patient over his shoulder, anger seeping into his tone . Waylon could see everyone swallow in nervousness around him.

“ flesh.” the patient said, slowly flinching away from Barker.

“ you did not you filthy liar!!” Barker snapped.

“ forgive me.” the patient said quickly.

“shut it!! … sit down. Ill speak with you later.” Barker growled.  
“john, get up here. Iam sure you'll do better.” Barker said, guesting for someone to come up.

Waylon watched the patient sit down. Everyone around him moved there heads slightly to avoid looking towards him. It was like Barker had just infected the man with the plague.

“what is Barker doing to these people?” he thought, drowning out the noise of the disturbing prayer being said again.

During the whole sermon no one moved or said anything, unless told or asked by Barker. At the end of the sermon, no one moved. Barker walked up to Waylons row.

“one of my men will escort you back to my room. I have some work to do.” Barker said, a glint of something dark appearing in his eyes at the end. Waylon didn’t say anything and was soon escorted by a savior to the room. In the room he sat at the dining table, nervously fidgeting with his sleeves while waiting.

Nothing happened for seven minutes. Waylon was beginning to wonder where Barker was. He jumped up from his chair, in fear, when he heard a loud yell from the window. He went over, peaking through to see the courtyard. He saw the patient, who messed up, with a broken leg outside in the snow. With all the blood pouring from his leg, the bone must have snapped out of the body. Waylon stared intently to watch what was happening.

Five unmasked saviors walked out of the building, followed by Barker. The saviors surrounded the injured patient and Barker spoke to him. Waylon couldn’t hear Barker, but he could hear the patient, who was screaming in pain.

“IAM SORRY!! IAM SORRY!! FORGIVE ME!!” the patient yelled painfully. Barker spoke a few more words to him. Then the saviors slowly closed in on the patient. The patient put up his hands in defense, begging Barker to stop them. What happened next would scar Waylon for life.

The saviors grabbed him and each sank there teeth into him. They ripped out multiple large chunks of the mans body. They ripped away muscle, swallowing the pieces before biting deeply to rip another. The patient yelled and screamed as he was bitten into. Pieces being ripped away while the man was alive.

They made sure to avoid the major artery’s or anywhere that could kill the man too quickly. The man clawed at them in defense, drawing some blood. The struggle just made them more viscous with there eating. Blood covered there mouths, dripping down there neck and chests. It didn’t bother them as more accumulated.

A savior ripped off one of the mans, almost, cleaned arms. Most of the meat having been eaten off to expose the bone. Another ripped off a cleaned leg. The man being still alive through the excruciating torture of being eaten alive. As Waylon watched on with horror, the whole scene was being corrupted by the engine. The saviors turned into large rotting lions, there body’s black and covered in leathery mutilated skin.

One figure, stayed the same. Barker stood there with perfect posture and a smug expression. The bloody scene before him did not bother him in the lightest. In fact, he seemed to be greatly enjoying the show. Waylon couldn’t watch anymore. He covered his mouth to keep himself from vomiting. His body was shaking in terror, he had to sit down.

He took deep breaths to stop gagging, keeping his hands clamped over his mouth. He shut his eyes, riding out the pain of the engine. He could still hear the man screaming in the courtyard.

“how long have they been doing this??!!” Waylon thought. By how long they were keeping the man alive to eat, they must have practiced. Finally the screaming stopped and Waylon slowly opened his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the window. He didn’t want to see how it looked outside. They could still be eating whats left of the torn body in the snow.

Waylon sat alone in the room for 10 minutes, his head facing down at the table top. We couldn’t think properly after what he just saw. He just knew he needed to escape. He couldn’t stand one day being stuck with Barker. He wanted to be back with Eddie, beyond the wall, where ever he was.

He heard the door open, but didn’t look at who ever entered. He closed his eyes, not wanting to even see, if it was Barker. He opened them again when he heard the sound of a place being set in front of him. He regretted it when he did.

His stomach lurched, seeing bloody raw meat in front of him. He sat up in a jolt from his slouched position, not wanting to be close to the meat. Thankfully, Barker didn’t see the jolt as he walked to the other end of the table to sit. He sat down with a composed expression, watching Waylon when seated. The two were silent and unmoving, staring at each other.

“ … I could cook it. If the rawness bothers you.” Barker said calmly, guesting to the plate.

“ he better not expect me to eat this. … its probably from the man he just killed.” Waylon thought bitterly. He bit his tongue from saying something nasty to Barker.  
“i-iam not very hungry. Just tired.” Waylon said, keeping his tone neutral.

“mm. … You know, I always love new comers. Id be happy if you decided to stay here. We have food and can provide protection. Of course the choice is yours.” Barker said with a small smile.

“sure it is.” Waylon thought angrily. He thought of what would happen when Eddie got a hold of Barker. The thought developed into a dark plan in Waylons mind.  
“id like to join. … but you have to convince my friend to join.” Waylon said, looking at Barker. Barkers smile grew a bit wider. Waylon remembered how he wanted Eddie, and hed use that to his advantage.

“id like to, But your friends been very impolite. Hes been killing my men at the door.” Barker said.

“ its probably because of me. He thinks iam in danger, so hes desperate to get in. iam sure if you tell him iam safe and ask to talk. He will.” Waylon said.

“are you sure? He seems very aggressive.” Barker said, hiding his growing excitement.

“yes. … just tell him iam safe and I want him to meet you.” Waylon said, making the message clear. Barker nodded with a small smile.

“ ill be sure to tell him. Your friend will be in here soon.” Barker said happily.

“ perfect.” Waylon said, giving his own smile.

“ one of my men will escort you back to your room. I'll go talk with your friend at the wall.” Barker said, keeping his happiness. Waylon nodded as they both stood.

Waylon was taken back to him room, while Barker went to the room. Waylon glared at him from afar, hoping that it’ll be the last he'll see of him.

* * *

 

Barker went to the wall door, passing many saviors. He walked up to a certain few. A small group standing right at the door way.

“so, is he still outside?” Barker asked.

“yes sir.” one of the saviors said.

“good.” Barker said to him. He walked up to the door confidently.  
“if your still out there, id like to say your friend is safe.” Barker said happily. Eddie, who was standing right out the door, glared at the door. He had been stalking along the wall, picking off anyone who dared come out. He was about to yell at them when Barker continued.

“ your friend says he wants to join us, but he wants you to join as well.” Barker said. Eddie raised a eyebrow, interested in what the man was saying.

“ did he now?” Eddie said, trying to urge more from the man.

“yes, he wants me and you to talk about it.” Barker said, assuming the conversation was going well.

“is that exactly what he said?” Eddie asked, his tone more pleasant. A small smile on his face as he caught on to Waylons plan.

“ he said he wanted you to meet me.” Barker said. It was a good thing they couldn’t see Eddie, or they would be suspicious of the huge grin that just grew on his face.

“ I guess I shall meet you then. As long as hes safe. … what is your name?” Eddie said in a delighted tone.

“ my name is Jacob Barker. And hes safe.” Barker said. Eddie grew even more delighted as he recognized that name.

“ well Barker, why don’t you just … open the door, so we can talk.” Eddie said, pulling out his knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't expect Barker to go down easily.
> 
> after repeatedly listening to Disneys "hellfire" from hunchback of notre dame i can only imagine Barker having frollos voice.


	13. Table manners

Waylon stood at the door in his room. He was leaned up against it, listening for anything. He was excited with the thought of Eddie getting a hold of Barker at the wall. His excitement grew when he heard some commotion from down the hall. He paced a bit at the door anxiety and hope that Eddie would bash his way down the hall to him.

“come on Eddie. Please get me out of here!” Waylon thought, tapping his foot nervously while staring at the door. He thought of what could be happening. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

“Eddie could be swarmed with guards. Why the hell didn’t I think of that?! of course Barker wouldn’t see him alone! I am an idiot!” he thought, beginning to feel guilty. He didn’t want anything to happen to Eddie.

He stood listening at the door for hours. He heard no sign of Eddie or Barker. He hoped Eddie was alright and Barker was dead. His hope was fading as the sun fell behind the mountains. He could see the stars out his window, which only reminded him of Eddie. He couldn’t bare to look at them, instead he just stared blankly at the door.

He felt tired, his body feeling spent on all the mental anguish he suffered. He refused to sleep here. He didn’t trust the place, even more so if Barker survives Eddies attack. He would most definitely not be happy that Waylon set him up. He didn’t want to wake up to being dragged out of bed to be butchered.

“Maybe I can sleep stand like Eddie.” Waylon thought. If he woke up standing he could fight off others better. He moved over to the wall next to the door, leaning in the corner that would be behind the door when opened. He relaxed against the wall, closing his eyes.

He would dose off now and again, but awaken when he began to fall or slide from his spot. Each time it happened he would wake up with a mini heart attack for falling. He stopped after six annoying try’s with six falling failures. He thought it was better to stop before he hurt himself.

Waylon stayed up all night. He looked exhausted when morning came. When the light beamed through the room on him, he glared at it annoyed by the brightness. He listened at the door again for any activity. Barker coming for him, or maybe a savior bringing him “food”.

He waited for hours, but no one came. There wasn’t even a noise on the floor. Waylon was starting to wonder if maybe Barker was dead. He expected Barker to be coming for him, Waylon's paranoia spiked.

“He must be planning something.” Waylon thought, glaring at the door. He started to pace in circles, staring at the door, waiting for something.

The something never came, no matter how long Waylon waited. The entire day had passed with no activity, or even a sound. Waylon was watching the sun light disappear as the last bit of sun went past the mountains. He sucked in a quick breath of air when he was scared by the sound of a distant storm.

If the storm developed lightning, he’d be in serious danger. His body tensed when he heard the door open behind him. He didn’t look, he didn’t want to make eye contact if it was Barker standing there. He stayed silent, waiting for the person to speak or move towards him.

“Barker wants to see you.” the person standing said.

“so he did live.” Waylon thought. He hesitantly went, expecting the worst reaction from Barker.

Waylon was taken to the double doors of Barker's room. The savior next to Waylon knocked on the door. A moment of silence passed. Waylon could feel himself growing tense at the sound of lightning being heard in the distance. He wished that whatever Barker would do would go by quickly.

“You may come in.” Barkers voice said from behind the door. By the sound of him, Barker was fine. Waylon glared at the door when it was opened. He was forced in alone, the door shutting loudly behind him. He looked over to the only lighted spot in the entire dark room, the dining table.

Barker was sitting at his end of the table. Blood thickly covering his mouth, dripping down to cover his neck and chest. His hands to his elbows were also thickly covered in the thick liquid. The bright crimson blood stood out from his pale glowing skin. Both being lighted by the little moonlight that shown through the storm clouds. He wasn’t in his proper posture like usual. He was hunching over a shredded ribcage. Most of the meat was already stripped from the bones.

Next to the ribcage was a large cup. Smeared with bloody hand prints of Barker picking it up. Waylon had thoughts running through his head at a mile a minute. One of the thoughts being that the rib cage belonged to Eddie. He killed the thought by convincing himself that the rib cage was too small to be Eddies.

“Come sit. I have a plate for you.” Barker gestured to the other end of the table. where a plate of meat sat alone. Waylon felt sick as he slowly approached, sitting into the chair. He stared at the meat before slowly glancing up at Barker.

“Do you remember the prayer we recited yesterday?” Barker said causally. He gripped a piece of meat from the rib cage and pulled it off. The sound of muscle being ripped was like a slow crackling ending with a large snap. Waylon swallowed, looking away towards the windows to his right.

“…No.” Waylon said. He couldn’t lie, because Barker might want him to repeat it.

“As the alpha species, we must hunt. We must hunt all things to survive, including our own kind. ... We must hunt and devour the weak. The weak will feed us their flesh to give us life...” Barker said, pride showing on his face. He looked at the newly ripped off piece of meat. He brought the cup beside him closer.

“No blood must be spoiled or wasted, No meat must be allowed to rot.” Barker continued, squeezing the thick blood from the meat into the cup. Waylon held in a gag at the site. He tried his best to not look revolted in front of Barker.

“One day, we must all feed ourselves for the survival of others.” Barker finished. He dropped the dried piece of meat and took a drink from the blood filled cup. Waylon regretted throwing that meat out the window now.

He took greedy gulps, having a lot of it miss his mouth to pour down his neck. Waylon saw it collecting at his dark scarf. Who knew if that scarf started red, or what color it used to be if it wasn’t. Waylon's gaze was brought back to Barker when he put the cup down.

“So, one day you will be eaten?” Waylon asked. Barker paused, swirling his cup.

“…One day.” Barker said quietly.

“Which means never.” Waylon thought.

“You should eat. You must be hungry.” Barker said. he peeled off some meat from a rib, swallowing it down. The last thing Waylon was feeling was hunger. This all made him never want to see meat again. Another thing to talk about in his future therapy.

Waylon had looked at Barker long enough to notice a new gash on him. It was a long deep gash that curved down the entire left side of his face. It started at Barkers forehead, running down to just miss the corner of his eye, and stopping near the corner of his mouth.

“Eddie's handy work?” Waylon thought. It must have been.

“Do you know what my favorite part of the meal is?” Barker asked Waylon rhetorically. He looked up from his meal to stare at Waylon. A look of deep hunger in his eyes. The look made Waylon shift uncomfortably under it.

“It's the skin. … it's sweet and soft. Even better when it's smooth without any scarring.” Barker grinned widely.

“The blood can also be pretty sweet. Sadly it doesn’t stay fresh for very long when it has left the body.” Barker said. His wide smile disappearing as a tone of disappointment appeared. Lightning flashed in front of the window, brightening the dark room.

Waylon's body tensed in pain with the engine being stimulated. The painful buzzing picking up to shock his brain. He was getting worried, he had to leave now. He had seen Barkers form distort with the first flash. The distortion disappeared too quickly for Waylon to catch what it looked like. Hed rather not stay, to properly see it a second time, making this worser for him.

“Your friend wasn’t very happy to talk with me” Barker said, ripping a piece of meat with his teeth. Waylon was feeling lightheaded, concentration on anything being a challenge.

“Maybe he didn’t believe I was safe.” Waylon said. Keeping his voice calm and clear.

“Maybe.” Barker said. A hint of doubt being in his voice.

“My men did quite a number on him. He managed to get away sadly. He's very strong.” Barker said.

“so he did get away.” Waylon thought a little happily. Another flash of lightning distorted Barkers looks. Waylon saw it this time.

Barkers head skinned itself, then cracked his skull open to reveal a new head. A large bloody wolf skull with fiery eyes sitting in the dark sockets. The long teeth made of broken, jagged, silver shining razor blades.

Waylon hyperventilated through gritted teeth. He didn’t want to make any noise to alert Barker to his panic. He had to force his body to stay put in the chair, as it instinctively wanted to hide under the table. As he thought about it, he had forgotten why he was forcing it in the first place. Fear and the engine working together to force him to run like prey. They made him forget his thoughts, wanting him to react more instinctively.

Waylon locked his body to the chair. He no longer knew why he was doing it, but still knew that the worst thing was to run. He stared across the table, that slowly stretched longer and longer, watching the wolf devour his food. The sickness in Waylon's stomach returned. It was ten times worse then before, he was about ready to vomit.

“Tomorrow, you can attend to work. You wont be locked in that room all day and you’ll get fresh air.” Barker said. Waylon stared at the creature with wide eyes. He was confused on how this creature could possibly talking to him. He watched it pick up its cup to drink. He felt even more disgusted as he saw some blood pour out its open bottom jaw. After the cup was set down, it spoke to him again.

He watched it intently to decode what it was saying. The smooth voice it used to have turned to a more rough one. The clear speaking distorted to gibberish crackling of its teeth snapping together. He broke his intense gaze on the creature when loud repeating noises happened at the window.

He looked at the glass, watching rain heavily pour down it. The engine forceful attacked his vision to make him look away from it. Everything changed color, shadows turned to figures, creatures stalking him from out the window, It all faded away as the engine died down. the look of the rain distorted and blocked the lightning flashes, stopping the stimulation. The sound of rain helped by drowning out the, now fading, buzzing noise.

He blinked a bit, clearing his vision. He remembered where he was and what was going on. He looked at Barker, who hadn’t noticed a thing, being too preoccupied with his meal and what he was talking about.

“The system is quick and simple.” Barker finished. Waylon looked at him, feeling disappointed. He may have missed some very important information that could help him in this place.

“That shall be all I talk about this evening. You will need sleep for work tomorrow.” Barker said, finishing his cup of blood.

“Work?” Waylon thought, confused. He went back through everything Barker said. He remembered Barker had mentioned it earlier. He really wished that the job wouldn’t be difficult and that he didn’t miss any important instructions for it.

“You may go back to your room now.” Barker said calmly with closed eyes.

“…Thanks.” Waylon said. he slowly left, wanting to rather run out. When he was out a savior escorted him back to his room. Inside his room, he went back and forth in his mind on if he should sleep. He was exhausted and he'd be working tomorrow. Doing what, he had no idea. He could be butchering body’s for all he knew. He decided to sleep, he may need the energy to fight if he refuses to work.

Barker was resuming his meal in his room. He was about to bite into another piece of meat, when he heard something. He dropped the meat in his hand with displeasure.

“So… you found your way in between the wall, did you?” Barker said with annoyance. He stared in anger at the unfinished meat. A flash lighted up the silhouette of Eddie, who was between a space in the large wall that cut through Barkers room. Small open spaces in the wall allowed the two to see each other.

“Yes, I haven’t found a full way in yet.” Eddie said.

“How unfortunate.” Barker said.

“You're very determined to get your… _darling_ …as you referred to him. Why is he so special to you?” Barker asked, the word darling coming out like it was something disgusting.

“He's my fiancee.” Eddie growled. He was not happy to hear Barker use darling in such a negative manner.

“He's not that important. You could easily find someone else, why don’t you just leave to find a real girl. You somehow made it into my wall, I am sure you could leave this place and go to your family.” Barker said, a hint of anger still in his voice. Eddie stayed silent, giving a dark glare to Barker from the shadows. Barker felt the unwanted gaze on him.

“You do have family don’t you? A father, brothers and sisters. Whatever else.” Barker said, he grabbed the meat again to eat.

“My father died in a house fire and my uncle drowned in a lake.” Eddie said. Barker paused before he could take a bite.

“Hm, accidents happen I guess.” Barker said.

“They weren’t accidents.” Eddie growled.

“I wonder how they happened…You're very delightful to speak to.” Barker said with sarcasm. Eddie let out a grumble, being irritated by Barker's conversation.

“…wouldn’t it be better to have our conversation face to face?” Eddie grinned at him through a small space in the wall. Barkers placid expression turned to bitterness.

“…I find that, some, personal conversations can be bad for my health.” Barker said, smiling back.

“Too bad, I really liked our last conversation.” Eddie chuckled.

“Are you going to be a rat in my wall all day?” Barker snapped, not pleased with Eddie's joke.

“Possibly, its very comfortable in here.” Eddie smiled.

“Well then, I will just have to spend more time with your… _darling_ , then.” Barker grinned. Eddie's smile disappeared at the threat.

“If you do, I suggest you treat him well. Or I'll have to get in much quicker.” Eddie threatened.

“ I wouldn’t if I were you. If something happens to me, something will happen to your _darling_ …I will promise not to do anything scaring, if you promise not be a rat in the wall during the day.” Barker said as he ate a piece of meat.

“Fine.” Eddie growled.

“Very good.” Barker said, continuing to eat. Both of them went silent, as they had nothing more to say to the other.

Waylon fell out of bed at the loud banging that occurred at his door. It sounded like the police were knocking on it. He hurried to his feet, glancing at the window when he noticed no sun light. The sky was still dark, probably being only four in the morning.

He looked back towards the door just in time to see a savior grab him. He was harshly yanked out of his room to be dragged off to work. Waylon stumbled, trying to keep up and stay on his feet with the savior. He was dragged down stairs to metal doors against a large wall, surrounded by boarded up windows. The doors were opened and Waylon was shoved out, forcing him to stumble and fall into the freezing snow outside.

“Get up!!” the savior growled, yanking Waylon back onto his feet. A shovel was forced into his hands before he was pushed further outside.

“Start digging!” the savior growled before heading inside. Waylon watched him leave then turned forward to examine the courtyard he was now in.

The disciples were all out, digging deep narrow holes. Waylon watched them, wondering what the purpose of all these holes were. There were small mounds from previous digs all around. He wasn’t able to take one step without walking over one.

“Manual labor to just make everyone tired and unable to fight?” Waylon thought. He walked over to a spot that seemed as empty as it could get. He dug the shovel into the soft dirt, it had been shifted and moved so much there was nothing to resist the shovel.

“At least the fresh air is nice.” Waylon said, shivering at the cold. He continued digging.

He dug a hole two feet wide and straight down for fifteen minutes. The hole he had made was almost four feet deep. He hadn’t really paid attention to his digging, he had been thinking of other things. The labor kept away most of his anxiety at least.

He paused when his stomach growled. It reminded Waylon that he had no food. His bag had been taken away since he arrived at that arena. With his bag was the loss of his camera to. That made him more anxious, knowing the camera may be destroyed with his other things.

The sudden thud of something heavy dropping next to him grabbed his attention. He looked at a large bag covered in stains of blood. Waylon looked up, seeing two saviors standing over the hole.

“bury it.” one of them said before they disappeared from Waylon's view. He looked back down at the bag, curiosity grabbing a hold of him. He shifted it with his shovel, forcing the contents to come out. It exposed the bloody remains of a human skeleton. It scared Waylon out of the hole, He wasn’t sure what he expected though to come from a bloody bag.

“The mounds are graves.” Waylon thought, he looked around at all the mounds. There must have been hundreds of them. And more were being dug around him by the others. A feeling of dread covered Waylon as he thought of where he stood being a graveyard. The resting place of the victims, of Barker's cannibalism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geeze barker, get some table manners!!!


	14. Drowning

Waylon gasped desperately for air, his mouth and lungs filling with the thick liquid of blood. He was drowning in a sea of blood. He could just see the surface of all the blood, but no matter how fast he swam something was dragging him down. He looked down at the cause, it made his heart thud against his ribcage.

The whole sea floor was made of moving rotting corpses and a special extension upward made entirely from corpses had grabbed a hold of Waylon. They gripped him tightly in there skeletal hands, clawing his skin, dragging him down into the deadly darkness.

Waylon felt pain, fear, the loss of hope, and worst of all the slow suffocation on blood. He began to tear up as the awareness of death coming onto him appeared. He thrashed carelessly in an attempt to gain some space closer to the surface. His thrashing only caused a swell of bubbles around him, gaining no where closer to the surface.

Everything started to get darker, the surface slowly disappearing, corpses coming more into his view. Waylon stopped his actions, knowing they were doing him no good. He only had one idea, though it made no sense to do where he was. He started to scream for help.

No sound came from his mouth, just blood bubbles. He ignored the choking feeling when blood rushed into his lungs when he tried to breath in air to beg for help. He screamed more, stopping after the 5th time to attempt swimming to the top again. He shut his eyes tightly to not see himself dragged into the corpses, the thought of death being reluctantly accepted.

He waved a arm up to grasp at anything to stop from sinking further. He was shocked when he felt someone grab him, instead of the other way around. The one holding his hand had a firm, yet gentle, grasp that stopped him from sinking. He opened his eyes to see what was becoming his life line. It was Eddie.

The surface was much closer then when Waylon shut his eyes, being only two arms lengths away. Eddie kneeled down on top of the blood surface, not sinking a inch, like a miracle life saver. His arm dipped past the surface to grab Waylon's hand. Eddie looked down at him, a expression of wonder at why he was down there. He started to pull Waylon to the surface effortlessly.

The corpses all growled as Waylon was being saved. They dug there claws deeper to pull him down again. All the strength they had in pulling Waylon down before was gone as Eddie pulled him up. Before Waylon could breach the surface he woke up taking a deep inhale.

He gasped at the air he was now free to breath. He looked around from his bed. He gathered his thoughts and memory, remembering he was in his room in the warrens. He had been digging graves all day to the point of getting a little frost bite on his face. When he was back in the room he was freezing and exhausted. He went straight to bed and now here he was.

He raked his hand through his hair and rubbed the side of his face. he felt the build up of a cold sweat he had experienced in his sleep. He looked down at his hands watching them shake. He was distracted from them when his body caught up to him being awake. His body let out a painful growl. It had been the fourth day without food for him.

He was also dehydrated from lack of water. Water was usually easy to find from sinks and possible bottles he found around desks or in staff kitchens. Now he was quarantined from all of that. He thought of how to get some water. He seriously doubted Barker would offer that, he'd rather Waylon drink blood. The thought made Waylon shiver in disgust.

He looked at the window, remembering snow. He walked up to the window to open it. When it was opened he looked at the bars in disappointment. There was no snow, but there were icicles developing on them. Waylon chipped a large one off to eat. He winced at the strong taste of metal the icicle developed from the bars.

“Beggars cant be choosers.” Waylon thought, continuing to eat the metallic ice. He choked on the last bite when the door was slammed open behind him. He was yanked back from his shirt collar. stumbling backwards when he was. He was carelessly dragged to Barkers room and thrown in. he caught his balance before he could fall flat on his face.

“Good, you're awake.” Barker said happily. Waylon glared at him, it broke when a loud growl went through his stomach.

“Shut up!” Waylon growled in his mind at his stomach.

“What?” Barker asked, not knowing the noise wasn’t from Waylon speaking.

“What do you want?” Waylon quickly asked.

“I want you to attend this day's special event. It's a very proud moment for all of us.” Barker grinned at him.

“Will I have to participate?” Waylon asked, his throat tightening in nervousness.

“The choice is yours. You will attend it though.” Barker said. Waylon's eyes wandered off Barker, lightly scanning the room. His eyes stopped at a miracle of sight.

“My bag.” Waylon said quietly. His stomach growled at the memory of his jars of jerky in the bag. Barker noticed the loud sound this time.

“Would you like some food?” Barker asked as he walked up to Waylon. Waylon glared unhappily at him. He wasn’t a morning person, especially now when he was starving and tired. it wasn’t good to be pushing Barkers “food” offerings on him with his regular food so nearby. Barker was most likely fully aware of Waylon's food, and he may have known about it for a while now.

“I don’t want your damned food” Waylon snapped. Barkers pleasant expression turned to cold anger. He glared at Waylon, his angry expression slowly turned to a eerie grin of happiness.

“Did anyone tell you, you have lovely skin. … it's very smooth.” Barker said in a sickening pleasant tone. He reached out to touch Waylon's face. prompting Waylon to lean as far away as possible from the disturbing and unwanted touch. Barker withdrew his hand with a deep chuckle, loving the reaction Waylon gave.

“Let's head to the hall.” Barker said as he passed Waylon to the doors.

Waylon followed Barker at a arms distance. Even at that distance it still felt too close for Waylon. Entering the hall that was usually pact, felt out of place with everyone making a circle and not seated in the usual rows. Everyone had there heads down and hands tightly together as usual.

“Stand there.” Barker said, pointing to one of the two only empty spots in the large ring. Waylon got a bad feeling, the feeling that made him sick. Barker stood close to the other empty spot looking off to the side.

“Allen, come please.” Barker said politely. Some one walked from the side wall, passing through the empty space next to Barker, into the middle of the ring. Barker went in and gave Allen a small piece of meat. Barker stepped back to close the small space off, trapping Allen in. Barker took a breath of air, pride seeping from him.

“Today we recognize the eternal rising of our disciple, Allen.” Barker spoke with eagerness. Waylons heart was sinking and tightening in his chest to prepare himself for what may happen.

“Begin your eternal passing Allen.” Barker ordered. Allen did as he was told, eating the small piece of meat given to him. There was a small wait before Allen began to uncontrollably shake. He fell to his knees making choking noises and foaming at the mouth before dropping dead to the floor. 

“poison.” Waylon thought, watching the dark scene. A unsettling wait told Waylon it wasn’t over.

“Allen has passed to the promise lands. He was a proper follower that all should strive to fulfill. Proper followers will be passed by me, I hope non of you disappoint me.” Barker said.

“Now, we must finish the process. You may begin.” Barker smiled. As soon as the words passed his lips, the disciples dropped down to devour the body like starving dogs. Waylon gagged a bit, looking away before he saw too much. Only him and Barker still standing to not eat.

“You poisoned him?” Waylon asked, he wanted to avoid hearing the eating. Even if it meant talking to Barker.

“No, no. poison taints the meat, making it useless. I use strong painkillers to overdose them. Its harmless when being eaten as long as you don’t get much in the system.” Barker smiled down to the event between them.

“Strong painkillers make drug addicts.” Waylon noted to Barker. Barker looked up at him with an amused face.

“All the more for them to enjoy it then.” Barker grinned before walking around to the door. The disregard for human beings made Waylon despise him more.

“You have a choice. You can stay here, or go to work.” Barker smiled at Waylon as he left through the door.

Waylon glared at the door for what felt like a eternity. He thought of what to do. He didn’t want to stay and listen to all the eating, but he didn’t want to go out in the freezing cold either. He only stayed for a minute before he couldn’t take anymore. He left for work, being escorted to the graveyard.

He dug, feeling heavy with depression of being trapped. He was shivering, starving, sick, and scared. He heard nothing about Eddie from Barker, or from any saviors. he wondered if he abandoned him. Losing interest in his darling, its not like he couldn’t pick a different bride.

He paused his thinking and digging to watch the disciples walk out to dig. When everyone was at there own spot to dig, Waylon continued. The cold was stinging the gash on his face. It had reopened after ice formed on it yesterday. He brought his hand to rub at it lightly. His face around the area was numb, it annoyed Waylon greatly. He hated the ability to not feel, it was a signal of some sort of nerve damage or the presence of a disease.

He looked at all the disciples with misery. How could they live like this? Eating each other to live. Becoming drug addicts under Barkers influence. Waylon wanted to do his own manipulation on them. It would be easy, there minds were already on the brink of snapping. Or if they already had … even better, they were empty shells awaiting orders.

He stopped digging in his spot to walk over to a small group of disciples. Not caring if the few saviors on guard saw him. He could always make a excuse of some sort. He began digging next to them. After no reaction from them, he made his move.

“Barker's very controlling.” Waylon said, a small hesitation in work let Waylon know they were listening. He smiled lightly at his small victory.

“He has strict scheduling, small servings of food.” Waylon slowly continued. He shivered at the word food. He didn’t have to hide it either with it being cold out.

“He's got tons of fat guards with him. … they're not so tough. Anything could stab through their clothes. Just a broken piece of a bed frame could do it.” Waylon said, planting ideas into there heads.

“One could easily get swarmed and stabbed to death.” Waylon added. He glanced at the workers around him. They never showed a reaction to what he was saying. Waylon wondered if any of this was getting through.

“Barker's not so great either. He has anemia.” Waylon said. The word anemia made everyone around him flinch. It was obviously not a word to be spoken.

“It makes him weak. He gets breathless easily…I bet he couldn’t run far if he was chased. “Waylon said coldly. Another seed planted.

Waylon did this all day. Digging holes, talking, and planting seeds to grow. At the end of the day he was exhausted, just wanting to sleep in his room. His sleep was interrupted by a savior dropping off “food.” Waylon growled at the interruption, looking at the raw meat.

He got up to walk to the plate. He looked down at it, his stomach growling at him in pain. He stared at it, unbelieving of what he was considering. He hadn’t eaten for four days, turning to five now. He didn’t know if he’d ever eat. He swallowed, looking at the meat.

He hesitantly reached for it. Struggling to move his hand closer to it. When he was a inch away he felt like vomiting. The thought of eating raw meat, tasting mouthfuls of metallic blood, it being human added more to the disgust.

Waylon's stomach heaved up on him. He gagged and coughed, bolting to the window to vomit. He was unable to, his stomach being empty, only being successful in drooling excessively, spitting, and more gagging. He couldn’t believe that he actually felt worse then before.

“I cant do it.” he said depressed. He had too much humanity left to eat another part of a person. He felt sleep hazing over him as he rested at the window sill. He almost fell asleep, till a savior slammed the door open to grab him. Waylon didn’t have time to react when the savior came in to grab him.

“What the hell does Barker want now?!!” Waylon growled in his head when he was pulled to the double doors. He was shoved in like before. Waylon glared at the door again, looking forward to begin speaking with Barker. His voice was lost, his throat going tight at what he saw.

Barker had his camera in his hands. Waylon's eyes grew wide into a death stare. Shock, anger, and a response to attack him for his camera being shoved down. He slowly walked forward till he reached the middle of the room. Barker was sitting in a couch, looking relaxed and fiddling with the camera.

“Why do you have that?” Waylon said, stopping it from becoming a growl. Waylon was usually passive, but when his camera was threatened he was willing to fight anyone for it.

“Why do you?” Barker asked back, looking at the object with disinterest.

“Put it back.” Waylon ordered, holding a growl. Barker ignored Waylon, flipping open the cracked screen. In a simple twist, he snapped the screen off the camera. It made Waylon flinch noticeably. Barker looked at him a grin, knowing hed found a extra sensitive spot for Waylon.

“Put it back.” Waylon said, growling deeply this time, taking steps forward. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye from the wall. He immediately dismissed it, too focused on his camera. Barker smiled at him, smacking the camera against the wall. A large snap was heard when the hard outer case of the camera cracked in half.

It made Waylon wince again, gritting his teeth together. He took more challenging steps forward at Barker. Barker met his challenge, standing to his feet.

“Why is this so important to you. It has no purpose … like you.” Barker grinned, a threatening tone seeping in.

“Non of your damn business. Now put it back.” Waylon growled deeply again. Barker wasn’t happy with Waylon's order.

“I don’t think you know your place in here. You seem to have forgotten that you're food here. Easily killed and replaced like a pig. You dare challenge your survival for just a destroyed item.” Barker growled down at Waylon.

“It's not destroyed.” Waylon growled. Barker grinned like he hoped for that answer. He threw the busted camera to the floor, breaking it in two large pieces. Waylon froze, staring blankly at the assaulted camera. To injure Waylon even more, Barker smashed his boot onto the large pieces shattering them to bits. He lightly kicked at the pile, sending bits off around the floor.

“Now, I think you need to go threw heavy work. In time you will learn to cooperate. Just be thankful that I am very forgiving or may have just been taken inside.” Barker spoke with a smug face, feeling he had won victory over Waylon. Waylon had gone into something resembling shock. He stared at the bits and pieces of what used to be his camera, Barkers voice floating hazily around the air.

“Patience is all we need. Isn’t that right…darling.” Barker said happily, mocking the word darling. Something broke Waylon from his shock, deep in his mind. It was like the sudden and loud snap of a mouse trap. Waylon's blank stare turned to pure hatred. Anything went in slow motion as he formed his hand tightly into a fist, making his knuckles white.

In a swift motion, Waylon smashed his fist into Barkers face. A cracking noise being herd and blood splattering onto the floor. After the slowing of motion, it had to speed up twice as fast to catch up. It gave Waylon no time to dodge Barkers attack with his cane. The thick cane handle hit Waylon's gashed face, knocking him down to the floor.

Waylon knew he must have blacked out for a second when he saw saviors surrounding him in Barkers room. He was still laying flat on the floor in a strong haze. He slowly raised his head from laying it sideways on the floor. He blinked a few times to clear the fog in his eyes.

The only problem was, half the fog wasn’t disappearing. Waylon blinked rapidly to dispel the fog. Panic set in as the fog refused to leave. Waylon stiffly reached up to feel his face. The warm sensation of blood coating his hand feeling familiar.

He felt his face, finding something even more urgent about his condition. Half of his face was entirely numb to touch. He didn’t feel pain, the warmth of blood, cold air, nothing. As his mind grew more conscious of what was happening around him, he felt a unbearable pain. The pain was in his skull on the damaged half. Waylon thought maybe his skull had been cracked open.

He moved his body to get up. He was stiff and very slow. What the hell did Barker do to him? The motion didn’t go unnoticed by the saviors or Barker.

“Get the fuck up you damned leech!” Barker roared angrily. The words passing in and out of Waylon's haze. Barker yanked him up enough to drag Waylon behind him. Waylon was limply dragged, unable to fight in his condition. A certain voice broke through Waylon's haze, bringing more attention to his surroundings.

“Barker you disgusting sack of shit! Don't you dare touch him!” roared a voice from the wall. Even in a unimaginable haze Waylon could recognize Eddie's voice. He saw Eddie pacing furiously behind Barkers wall.

“He didn’t abandon me.” Waylon thought as he was dragged out of the room to the courtyard. He was tossed into the freezing snow. Waylon's smeared blood staining it to a bright red. Waylon stayed where he was. He could barely move his arms to feel his face, so there was no point in fruitlessly trying to stand.

He watched the saviors circle around him, Barker talking about something. Waylon recognized the spot he was in. 

“About to be eaten alive, what a way to go.” Waylon thought, barely able to finish it. Waylon closed his eyes, focusing on what noises were happening. His camera was gone, and he was accepting that he'd be gone soon to. He opened his eyes again when Barker went silent. Waylon listened, hearing yelling, banging and screaming happening toward the building.

Luck and Waylon's seed planting had stopped his execution. The disciples were rioting inside. Barker and Waylon's fight had snapped the others. The ones who had to live under Barker for months. Waylon barely lived half a week under his watch. Barker and his saviors left Waylon in the snow to deal with the rioters.

Barker had run inside with his small group of saviors. He was shocked at finding almost all his guards dead. Butchered and ripped to pieces. The disciples swarming around the room spotted Barker. The sudden multiple death glares made Barker afraid. They all attacked his group, overpowering the last few saviors and forcing Barker to flee to his room.

He blocked the door with furniture, wheezing at his lack of breath. He laughed at the door, knowing he had a back door to escape through in his room. He forgot one little important detail though.

“Well, well, well.” a delighted voice said behind Barker. The voice also carrying a feeling of aggression. Barker looked at the wall, seeing Eddie grinning widely at him.

“Seems you're stuck. Well, friend, you have a choice to make now. You could escape through here and … hope, I am in a forgiving mood. Or you could face your angry followers.” Eddie said with his wide grin. Barker swallowed, if he wasn’t pale already he would have lost all color. Massive banging occurred at Barker's door, the rioters attacking it to break in.

Eddie was going to make sure he didn’t have a exit as the followers broke in. Barker was swarmed with attackers. He was shredded and ripped at left and right, being devoured by the followers he thought were all prey to him. Eddie chuckled as he ran off to go save his darling.

Waylon had managed to somehow make it to his feet. He leaned against the walls heavily, slowly moving a foot per minute. He kept his head tilted to the left, feeling excruciating pain in that side if he didn’t. He still couldn’t see out of or feel the left side of his face.

He froze anytime he was movement, being unable to tell anything apart. It could have been a harmless disciple or maybe even a mountain lion that somehow got in. the room was spinning widely in the little vision he had. It made him sick so quickly that he had to close his eyes often.

He slowly rounded a corner, practically dying of a heart attack when he was suddenly hugged. He flinched at first, expecting major pain. He relaxed when he felt the hug was gentle and by Eddie. He relaxed in the comforting hold his body not being just exhausted, but dead.

“Are you alright?” Eddie asked, worry in his voice.

“I can't see out my left eye or feel the left side of my face.” Waylon said depressed. Eddie carefully set him down to examine his face.

“It looks alright, your gash has just reopened.” Eddie said, he held Waylon's head and slowly tilted it from side to side. He noticed Waylon would flinch and go against the movement that made his head tilt right.

“Does your skull on the left side hurt when you tilt it?” Eddie asked.

“Yes.” Waylon said tiredly.

“You must have pressure on that side.” Eddie said. He pulled out his knife, making Waylon feel lightheaded at the sight of it. He felt sick, wondering what he was going to do with it. Eddie forced him against the wall to keep him from moving and held his head tightly. Waylon panicked at seeing the knife get close, struggling in Eddies hold. The knife dug into Waylon's scalp, he shut his eyes tight. He bared the pain, doing that because it was all he could do.

A small cracking sound then a pop happened when the knife pierced Waylon's skull. The constant pain in his skull was relinquished. Feeling in his face was the first thing to return, he could feel the new blood pour down his cold face. His vision in the left eye returned a little while after. A smiled a little, being happy he could fully see again.

He looked up at Eddie, who was smiling down on him. Eddie moved his face slowly to Waylon's. Waylon grew nervous at the strange intrusion. He opened his mouth slightly to ask what he was doing, being cut off before he could make a noise from Eddie kissing him.

Waylon froze, his heart feeling like it had stopped in his chest. Everything around him was being destroyed in bits and pieces. When Eddie released Waylon's lips he hugged him close. The once comfortable hold was now uncomfortable again. It took a moment for Waylon's mind to reconstruct the world back around him.

“Come on darling.” Eddie said happily, picking up the mostly limp Waylon into his arms to carry him away.


	15. Hush my Darling

Waylon slowly stirred from his sleep from pleasant gentle kisses of affection on his neck. He let out a pleased moan from the loving kisses and opened his eyes. He expected to find his wife Lisa lying over him, but found something the exact opposite.

“Eddie?!” Waylon's mind shouted in utter disbelief. He stared at him in shock, now noticing that both of them were naked. Eddie chuckled with a smile at his reaction. The vibration he felt passing from Eddies chest to his made him blush and swallow nervously. Waylon's brain was screaming at his body to flee, push Eddie away, but his body refused to. His brain was also tossing thoughts around like paper.

“How did I not notice him get over me, or that he got past stripping both me and him before I woke up?!” He thought, idiotically starring up at him, frozen in place. Eddie grinned down at him, then slowly moved his face closer to Waylon's. Waylon recognized exactly what he was going to do. He was going to kiss him again.

Waylon's eyes went wide as he turned his head away. He pushed himself into the bed to get away. sinking deeper into the bed sheets when Eddie continued to get close. Just an inch away from kissing him, Waylon swung at Eddie to get him off.

Waylon awoke to falling off his bed in an entanglement of sheets and blankets. He quickly closed his eyes as he hit the floor. Hissing in pain and panting as he recovered on the cold cement. He opened his eyes again in shock at what just happened.

He jumped to his feet, panting, to examine himself. He was still fully clothed, with extra layers of wrapped sheets on him. Eddie wasn’t anywhere near him or even in the room. He let out a long breath to relax himself, raking through his hair. He brought his hands down to look at them. They were covered in a light layer of moister from the cold sweat he had experienced in his sleep. He growled at experiencing a new nightmare.

Nightmares and waking in a cold sweat had become normal for Waylon. Ever since he had escaped Barker three days ago. Eddie had taken him to a small medical infirmary, with tons of supply’s collected for any possible injury. Waylon assumed that is what Eddie was doing outside the wall when he wasn’t stalking it to get in.

There were twenty different types of medication, five pounds of gauze, six things of stitching wire and needles, three bottles of alcohol, operating tools, a bone saw, bottles of water, and some liquid anesthesia. The supplies unsettled Waylon, what exactly would Eddie have been thinking that would involve using a bone saw to fix him.

Waylon returned to his bed, fixing the sheets and blankets he had thrown everywhere in his sleep. He thought of if the dream he just had was better or worse then his normal dreams. Most of them involved cannibalism, corpses, monsters, trapped or drowning.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he breathed out, laying back on the bed. Waylon remembered when he first saw himself in the mirror the next day away from Barker. He was extremely thin from starvation. The gash on his face that was “just re-opened” as Eddie put it, seemed a bit of an understatement. The gash was ripped open and the skin had been almost completely pulled off, skinning the side of his face. Waylon had to stitch the skin back on. Barker's cane must had hooked into the wound, pulling it, when he was hit.

After he escaped Waylon had suffered strong depression, He had to take antidepressants to fight it. Eddie recommended him a bottle of antidepressant pills that he recognized and called Lexapro. The label on the prescription bottle had been long gone, being scratched or rotted off in time.

Waylon was intrigued by Eddies vast knowledge when he explained the pills. Telling things like what dosages to take, how, and when to take them. Waylon wanted to ask if he’d been prescribed them or if he just knew them from Murkoff. He thought the question was better asked later.

Eddie also had to coax him into eating some of his jerky. After all the meat he’d seen with Barker, it was hard to eat any jerky after that. It seemed never the same. His body threatened to vomit it the first time, after not eating for almost a week. He had to be given lots of water to help his stomach stay down.

Waylon also vividly remembered when Eddie kissed him. The taste of him was still lingering on his lips, being like plain bitter coffee. Waylon knew that taste well, there had been so many times he rushed to work with sugarless and milk less coffee. The first sip being such a strong surprise that he had to spit it out.

Waylon rubbed his face to wake himself up. He always felt exhausted, caused by the tossing, turning, and waking up in a panic from dying in his dreams. Having constant cold sweats were not helping either. The sweat always made him cold which effected his dreams more towards dying.

“Camera's gone.” Waylon said, depression coming onto him again. We wasn’t sure what would happen now. His camera was his life line to everything, now its gone. He expected to die when it was destroyed, his perception of that illusion now shattered after surviving. He felt like he was free floating in a dark unknown void, waiting to just die or for something bad to happen. That constant stress not helping his condition.

He pulled his bag out from under his head to retrieve the bottle of Lexapro. He looked at the orange bottle in his hand, shaking it for no particular reason. Eddie had recovered the bag after he dropped Waylon off and made sure he would be okay.

“How could this have happened to me?” he mumbled to the medicine bottle. Waylon slowly looked toward the door as it opened for Eddie.

“Good, you're taking your medicine.” Eddie smiled lightly.

“Yeah.” Waylon said. He slowly looked back at the bottle, opening it, and taking two white pills. He swallowed the pills roughly without water.

“Can we leave?” Waylon asked.

“No, you're still weak.” Eddie said. Waylon closed his eyes. The depression melting away to let anger take over. Since he could stand again he wanted to leave as soon as possible. Eddie of course refused, not even letting him stay long out of bed. Like when he was sick before, he thought of all the time he was wasting.

“ Murkoff had to be prepared, it wouldn’t be long. The first truck appeared eight days ago, more must have arrived by now.” he thought.

He had to do something to get the anxiety away, mainly sleeping. He tried to choke down a handful of anxiety pills, but Eddie didn’t allow that either because it would poison him.

His mind slowed down as he thought of talking to Eddie. It was hard to talk to him, or look at him ever since that kiss. He wanted to ask him about the pills, but they may be in delicate territory. if they were involved in his childhood, and not Murkoff. He debated in his mind, it would keep anxiety of Murkoff away, but it may start anxiety over Eddie.

“Why not, I might be dying soon anyway.” Waylon thought carelessly. He decided to chance it when he saw Eddie leaving.

“…How do you know so much about Lexapro?” he said hesitantly. Eddie froze in place, his back towards Waylon.

“…Were you prescribed them?” Waylon asked, more quietly then he meant to.

“…Yes, when I was young.” Eddie said. Waylon thought of the answer, it raised more questions. He wanted to ask more, but was afraid to. He thought if he asked slow, Eddie could just draw the line at some point to make him stop.

“Did you tell the doctors…or did they ask why you need them?” Waylon asked slowly.

“No, my… _father_ knew a doctor from dinner parties. He paid him off for them. He also paid off more doctors when he needed my stomach pumped.” Eddie said, anger rising in his tone. He paused, allowing himself to calm down enough to continue.

“It got worse after that. Three months later, my house caught on fire.” Eddie said with a hint of satisfaction at the mention of fire. Waylon paused before asking his next question.

“Did you want them? Or your father just get them?” Waylon asked.

“I asked him for them, promising “I'll be better”. But that wasn’t my plan.” Eddie said, anger rising again.

“…What happened to your father?” Waylon quietly asked. He knew he was now treading on very thin ice.

“Have you eaten today?” Eddie said, ignoring Waylon's question. Waylon took it as a sign to stop and drop the subject.

“No.” Waylon said.

“You should really eat.” Eddie said, leaving the room as he was doing before Waylon stopped him.

Waylon didn’t have much else to do, so he grabbed a jar from his bag, looking at the half full container. He made a look of distaste at the dried chunks of meat. Waylon used to hate the plain, flat, taste of his jerky, but now it was considered a blessing to him. He wouldn’t have been able to handle a strong meat flavor right now. He ate a little, then curled up in the medical bed. He hid his head under his bag to hide from the afternoon sunlight coming through the large windows nearby.

He used to enjoy the sunlight, feeling the warmth on him and reminding him of the outside freedom. Now it was just an annoying reminder that he was trapped sleeping inside this place. After closing his eyes he passed out from his constant exhaustion. passing out had also become normal for him.

The dark void he was in slowly turned to black freezing water, covered in thick ice. Waylon was trapped underneath it, suffocating, trying desperately to break through the ice. He pounded on it and clawed at it, leaving minimal marks that would soon disappear. He felt his body getting colder and colder in the water till it became totally numb. His senses shocked himself awake when he felt something brushing by him. He gasped in air and struggled away from what ever touched him. “It’s just me!” Eddie said, holding Waylon to the bed to keep him from fighting or falling off the bed. Waylon panted and relaxed, removing the bag on his head when he was released.  
“you looked cold, I tried to cover you.” Eddie said, explaining himself. Waylon made a tired hum noise to acknowledge Eddies explanation.

“Did you eat?” Eddie asked.

“Yes.” Waylon said tiredly. Eddie nodded, sitting on another bed next to Waylon's. Waylon stretched, looking out a nearby window to figure out what time it may be. The sun was close to the mountains, had to be only 3 or 4 hours past afternoon. Waylon stared out the window, watching snow fall passed it.

Depression came again as the snow reminded him of his family. The last time he wrote in his journal, as far as he knew, December had started. That meant Christmas would be coming up, or had possibly passed. He could barely remember how many days have passed. He wanted to remember all the Christmases with his kids, but couldn’t. His memory of his family was faulting, unable to remember his kids names anymore. It would be the first Christmas away from his family. He felt guilty for it, his wife didn’t want him to have this job, but he said it would be better with more money. If he had known what would happen, he would have moved them to the farthest continent away from this place. Maybe they thought he was dead in some accident Murkoff made up. Maybe that’s why they hadn’t come. Or maybe Lisa knew better then to attack Murkoff and went into hiding.

“That might have been it.” he thought pulling out the pill bottle to take more medicine.

“No.” Eddie said sternly, taking the bottle away. Waylon slumped in his bed, giving a glare at him. He had done this before on the first day, taking too many pills in one day to drown his depression. It only made him sick and vomit them up, after that Eddie had been watching his intake. Taking the bottle away when Waylon got carried away with dosages.

Waylon gave a huff and looked back out the window. He still loved the snow at least, it was one of the few things he didn’t hate in this place. Waylon wanted to do a little talking to stop thinking of his family.

“I like snow.” he said, trying to start some small conversation with Eddie.

“I am not fond of it. It slowed the fire.” Eddie said.

“…Did you start the fire?” Waylon asked quietly.

“Yes. I started it near the fire place. My… _father_ burned alive and no one suspected me, being a young child, except my uncle. He became…afraid of me, after.” Eddie said, anger rising then a wide grin showing.

“What happened after the fire?” Waylon asked.

“You should sleep, it's getting dark.” Eddie said, ignoring another one of Waylon's questions. Waylon slumped and glared again. He didn’t want to sleep, he wanted to stay up as long as possible now.

“If I stay up long enough, maybe I'll pass out and get a decent amount of sleep.” Waylon thought.

“I cant sleep. The pills are making it hard to.” Waylon lied, even if he thought Eddie knew about his recurring nightmares. Eddie stared at him with a disbelieving look, causing Waylon to look away from him.

“How far do you think we are from getting out?” Eddie asked, not challenging Waylon's lie. He changed the subject instead.

“We are into the third building, its the entire last section. So maybe a few more days. If there are no more run ins.” Waylon said, turning to look back at him half way.

“Where should we get married after we are out?” Eddie asked with a pleasant tone. Waylon tensed up, feeling sick, at the mention of there marriage. He looked away again to hide the reaction on his face. His throat tightened up making it difficult to get any words out.

“I-I don’t know. I've been…busy with escaping to really think about it.” Waylon said, his voice going quite towards the end.

“Only a few days away. Feeling excited?” Eddie asked.

“Of course.” Waylon said, faking some happiness.

“Lovely.” Eddie said, being delighted.

“I should have gone to sleep.” Waylon thought. Sleep turning into the best thing ever right now.  
“we still need to make it off Murkoff ground and get far away enough from this place that they cant find us. Else they mite just take us back or kill us.” Waylon said, making sure that Eddie still got the “far away from here” point. It would all fall apart if Eddie decided to get married as soon as they were in the next town.

“I know. I'll make sure we get far away.” Eddie said.

Waylon wanted to get rid of him before then. He still wasn’t sure how. the thought of abandoning Eddie had become less then ideal now. It made him feel sick with the thought of keeping Eddie.

“I can't do that.” he growled in his mind, as if it would be set straight.

“I can't get married to him, being stuck with him the rest of my life.” he thought. Waylon shivered when his mind felt that it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Cold?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah.” Waylon said, covering himself before Eddie would try. He laid down on the bed, facing away from Eddie, to think and avoid anymore marriage talk.

“Have I forgotten that he's a murderer? He strung up bodies like ornaments in a gym after sexually mutilating them. I would have been added to that collection if he hadn’t got caught in the rope and the ceiling had not collapsed. I would have also been tortured before that, sexually mutilated with a saw and a knife. Maybe with more things.” Waylon thought, attempting to make his brain go against Eddie like it used to.

But it was too late for that, no matter how much he denied it. His brain had associated Eddie with protection now, even being his only friend here. after all they’d been through he cant push Eddie aside anymore. He hated to admit it, but he found himself more comfortable around Eddie then being alone.

“At least he didn’t eat people like Barker did.” Waylon thought. He sighed from being exhausted. His body wanted badly to sleep, but his mind couldn’t take the stress of it. He rubbed his face to wake himself up.

He stared out the window, watching as the sun went down till stars appeared. The room was almost completely dark if it weren’t still for one working white light in the infirmary. It constantly flickered, annoying Waylon and giving him a headache.

His mind kept tossing the idea of sleep around. He wanted to, but couldn’t because of nightmares. He should, but the sleep barely lasted. At least he mite get some energy, or he might just be more exhausted then before.

“Maybe I would sleep better if Eddie stayed in the room.” he thought, meaning to dismiss it. His brain however, grasped the idea thinking more of it, and nagged him about it. He tried again to dismiss it, the idea feeling strange and disturbing for him. He sighed and swallowed his disturbed and fearful feeling.

“Eddie, could you sleep next to me…to help me sleep.” Waylon said quietly, some minor hope that Eddie didn’t hear.

“Of course love.” he heard Eddie say happily. Waylon got a little nervous and moved over to make room. As Eddie got closer, Waylon's back got tenser with each step heard. Eddie had laid down in the bed next to him and made no move to touch him. Waylon breathed out a long slow breath, getting rid of tension in his body.

He waited for any action from Eddie, after minutes passing his body had relaxed. the warmth on his back from Eddie being near felt relaxing. He closed his eyes, falling asleep while enjoying the added warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you wish it wasn't a dream!!


	16. the Beginning of an end

Waylon shifted closer to the large amount of warmth next to him. The feeling of something breathing next to him, had him wake up in confusion. He leaned away suddenly when he saw Eddie sleeping next to him. Waylon had gotten closer to him in his sleep, being up against him and laying his head on Eddie's chest.

Eddie had gotten close to, wrapping his arm around Waylon's side. Waylon felt uncomfortable in this close position and slowly moved away. The small movement of the person he was touching had Eddie wake up immediately with a tense body. Waylon flinched, shutting his eyes, in reaction like he had awaken a killer grizzly bear. Eddie let out a breath of air as his body relaxed, having caused Waylon to relax with him.

“Sleep well?” Eddie asked, smiling at Waylon.

“…Yes.” Waylon said, avoiding eye contact as he sat up. Waylon hated saying it, the comfort he felt while sleeping next to him felt wrong. He never planned to feel this way about Eddie, ever. It was just wrong to love someone who tried to sexually mutilate you.  
“can we leave?” Waylon asked again, rubbing his face. Eddie let out a small chuckle.

“Excited to get out?” Eddie asked.

“Yes, I want to get out.” Waylon said, holding back some anger while avoiding the question.

“Just be patient. We will get out soon.” Eddie said as he stood from the bed.

“How soon will soon be?” Waylon asked, his tone getting low.

“Three days.” Eddie said.

“Three days?! I can't stay here for three days!” Waylon said getting up from the bed.

“We can't leave when you're sick and injured.” Eddie said to him in a serious tone.

“I-” Waylon said, interrupted by the sound of far away gun shots. Both of them looked in the direction of the noise, being silent. Waylon grew pale knowing Murkoff was starting there assault on the building. The life clock was counting down now.

“We have to leave, now.” Waylon said urgently to Eddie. Eddie gave a noise of disapproval.

“Take your medicine first.” Eddie said, unhappy at leaving early. He took out the bottle of medication holding it to him. Waylon let out a sigh of relief, grabbing the medicine from Eddie and going to gather his things. He swallowed two pills and put on his back pack as he left the room. He slowly peeked out the door, looking for any Murkoff security. Seeing no one he left the door way, being followed closely by Eddie.

“Where shall we go?” Eddie asked.

“Mainly we just need to pass through halls and a few offices, then get through the outside courtyard.” Waylon said quietly.

“Hopefully Murkoff wont catch up to us.” he said.

“How long do you think it'll take for them to do that?” Eddie asked.

“Maybe only a few hours.” Waylon said, starting to breath heavily from stress and anxiety. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Eddie set a hand on his shoulder.

“Stop breathing like that.” Eddie commanded. Waylon held his breath to stop for a moment. He knew he needed to talk if he wanted to calm himself. He started where his and Eddies other conversation ended. ignoring his bad feeling on the subject.

“...What happened after the fire?” he asked quietly. Eddie let out a sigh.

“I was forced to move in with my uncle in a loathsome house near a lake. It was falling apart from rot and termite infestation. He wasn’t rich like my father, couldn’t afford a different place. Ungodly things happened there.” Eddie said, anger rising like before.  
“It was all caused from his fear of me. He wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything against him. Eventually though, years passed, I got older and bigger.” he said. Waylon could sense the enjoyment Eddie had for making his uncle afraid.

“I started fighting and threatening him. The abuse stopped…for a while. He shoved me into a shed at the lake riverbank, locking me in, thinking it would make me more cooperative.” Eddie said. Waylon noticed he went pale at the mention of the shed.

“Is that why you're claustrophobic?” Waylon asked.

“I am not claustrophobic.” Eddie denied. Waylon stayed quiet.

“I was trapped in the…shed, for a week. Sometimes he'd visit me, but he was still terrified of me. During the time I was trapped it rained a lot, making the bank and the shed flood. I had to learn to sleep stand or accidentally drown in my sleep.” he continued.

“…How'd you get out?” Waylon asked.

“For most the time I spent in there I tried to dig my way under, but the flood would bring in more mud each time. One day my uncle came to the shed, assuming I was dead. When he opened the door, I attacked him.” Eddie said.

“What happened to him?” Waylon asked.

“I beat his head in with a rock, then I dragged his bloody body to the lake and held his head under the water. I remember seeing a lot of blood and bubbles. He struggled for a little while and when he stopped I dumped his body into the lake.” Eddie said, explaining proudly how his uncle was killed.

Waylon was a little disturbed at the story, not for what Eddie did but what had happened to him in his childhood. He felt bad, but he knew he couldn’t do anything to change that. It hurt worse knowing Eddie somehow got here and he was now being used to just escape before being abandoned again. Waylon felt like a jackass now, depression not helping the negative feelings. 

He slowed down, feeling that he had to do what he did next. He hugged Eddie from behind, burying his face into his back. The action of affection made Eddie stop. He was confused and worried for Waylon doing this random action. Its not like Waylon hugged him everyday, and the most “affectionate” action he ever did towards Eddie was talk.

“Are you alright?” Eddie asked, looking down at Waylon from over his shoulder. He was accustomed to Waylon being a nervous wreck and thought he may have finally broken down.

“I'm fine.” Waylon said, muffled through Eddies back. He actually liked his show of affection and the feeling of warmth from Eddie. Slowly, and sadly, he removed himself, feeling odd at the reason why he felt that way. He continued forward down the hall, thinking of why he needed to do that.

“I shouldn’t have done that. This was never meant to happen.” he thought, he let out a quiet sigh.  
“I can't abandon him now, I'll need to think of something. Maybe I could convince him to seek real help at a REAL hospital, and not get trapped at a place with Murkoff. Probably wouldn’t like that, I wouldn’t, after all this. Will I still trust hospitals after this? I should plan for my therapy, God knows I'll need it. Get a prescription for anxiety and insomnia night terrors.” Waylon thought.

Waylon stopped when the sound of distant gun shots stopped. Eddie stopped next to him, looking back. Waylon slowly looked back, getting pale again.

“Why did they stop?” Eddie asked with a raised brow.

“Setting up something, most likely.” Waylon said, continuing with a quick pace.

“You should eat.” Eddie suggested after seeing how pale Waylon was. Waylon nodded, getting his jar of jerky out to split it with Eddie.

“Where will we go after the courtyard?” Eddie asked, eating his jerky.

“We should be free after that, As long as we avoid Murkoff. We will be in the mountains and we can walk to a town nearby. Try to get some money there by trying my bank account. If Murkoff hadn’t wiped it yet.” Waylon explained.

“They had to have wiped it out. I am going to use Lisa’s account, but I am not going to tell Eddie that.” Waylon thought.

“The mountains that go on for 6 miles? The same ones that are constantly snowed and rained on?” Eddie pointed out.

“I know, but we can hide better in the mountains. If we follow the river we would be walking by the road with Murkoff blockades. The towns wont be safe either, so we just run in to grab money and leave.” Waylon said, he didn’t have much of a plan after the escape. His main goal was to just survive without being horribly crippled before the escape.

“How long do you plan for us to run?” Eddie asked. The question made Waylon feel disheartened.

“We might be running forever.” he said. Waylon thought about it, if it was true then he shouldn’t be with his family. He would just be putting them in danger with Murkoff. He really wished to see his family when he was free, but plans could change.

“I am used to that.” Eddie said.

“You’re also used to being alone. I am not.” Waylon thought.

“I'll have to let go of my family to keep them safe. Maybe I could write a letter and sneak it into Lisa’s mail box. I don’t know the address, but I still at least know where to find the house. Then she'll know I am okay and free, and wont have to attack Murkoff.” he thought.

“That was already a bad idea to begin with, attacking Murkoff. No amount of lawyers could take Murkoff down. They would just cover evidence, back mail, bribe and murder whoever they wanted. Lisa knew that before I could even think of it. She would be safe.” Waylon thought. He held back some tears and avoided giving his sadness away to Eddie.

They entered a large staff room that looked mostly clean, besides some scattered pages on the floor. Waylon looked towards the door they were suppose to pass through. Cursing when he saw a key card lock on the door.

“The door needs a card. Maybe its in an office.” Waylon said, heading down an office hall.

A door at the end of the hall caught his attention. He had a sense of Deja vu when he walked towards it. He looked at the doors, not noticing Eddie had split to search another office. Waylon peeked inside, the feeling of Deja vu getting stronger. He looked at the room, puzzled about it.

The office was large, having some sort of living room attached to it. He got a feeling of nervousness as he entered, walking slowly to the main office. He stopped in the arch way of the main office. There was a dark wood desk with a scratched gold name plate on it.

“Jeremy Blaire.” Waylon whispered, recognizing that name and remembering the man it belonged to. He looked at the plate with daggers before bitterly whacking it off the desk with his hand.

“You did this to me you degenerate.” Waylon growled at the plate laying on the floor.

He looked down at the contents of the desk for any key cards. Some papers were lying around, pens, a sharpener, a few office supply junk, and a stack of files. he sighed at the sight of them. He remembered that he used to collect as many as them as possible.

“A lot of good that did. It only helped Murkoff gather information faster when I was captured.” Waylon thought, his depression affecting him. Waylon's eyes ran over the file names, a certain one catching his eye.

“Waylon Park.” he read in his mind, grabbing it out of curiosity. He read over the giant red classified stamp on the front of the file. There couldn’t be much in the file, just papers for experiments and scheduling. He opened it slightly, closing it when he heard Eddie approaching. He shoved the file into his backpack. Not wanting Eddie to read anything inside the file.

“Did you find the card yet?” Eddie asked.

“Umm.” Waylon said as he searched the drawers. He moved some papers around in the drawer, uncovering the key.

“Found it.” he said. After unlocking the door, with the key, they entered a burned hall way.

“The floor mite be weak, so watch it.” Waylon said as he slowly stepped on the floor.

“Fire can do such a marvelous job with things.” Eddie said as he walked behind Waylon.

“As long as your not the one getting burned.” Waylon added to the sentence. He wondered about the file in his bag.

“Why would Blaire be looking at my file? Trying to Sign me up for shooting practice?” Waylon thought.

“Why did I even grab the file, all it has is junk papers. If I took it though, maybe Murkoff might accidentally erase all my other files. They wont remember me and ill be free from being pursued by them.” Waylon thought. He looked out a window nearby, stopping in shock at seeing Murkoff entering another part of the building nearby.

“Dammit, we need to go faster.” Waylon said, picking up the pace. Eddie looked out the window with displeasure before catching up to Waylon.

“They might be ahead of us.” Eddie said. Waylon didn’t like hearing that. He didn’t want to believe Murkoff was ahead, ready to trap or kill them. He stopped again as shots were fired in the direction they were heading. Waylon felt lightheaded and sick. Eddie grabbed him, making him jump from the sudden touch.

“Let's head down a different direction, for now. Hide somewhere.” Eddie said as he pulled him down a different hall.

“But they'll just come down here!” Waylon said, panic coming onto him.

“If we hide well, they’ll pass by to go deeper into the building. The halls will be empty around here then and we can walk out without any hassle.” Eddie said. Waylon still didn’t like being trapped here with Murkoff heading towards them.

He followed Eddie without an argument. He trusted him to know what to do in this situation more then he did. He stayed close, nervously looking back for Murkoff. Eddie opened a door to a burnt locker room.

“We are going to hide in here?” Waylon questioned as he looked at the thin lockers. Even for him the lockers were small.

“It’ll work, just need to make them bigger.” Eddie said as he opened one. He kicked the metal plate inside that divided the locker spaces. He kicked away two plates, connecting three lockers together.  
“its done.” Eddie said as he got in the lockers. Waylon looked at them, hesitant about entering. The last time he got into a locker, around Eddie, didn’t end well. He entered the small dark space, only having a foot between the both of them.

“How long should we stay in here?” Waylon asked, closing the locker door to shut them in.

“until we hear them pass, or until night fall.” Eddie said.

“That will be a while.” Waylon said.

“We should sleep 'til then. Make us more alert.” Eddie suggested.

“Really cramped in here for that.” Waylon replied.

“Not if you sleep in my lap.” Eddie said. Waylon gawked at him with a raised eyebrow, wondering if Eddie did all this just to have him in his lap. Thankfully the locker was too dark for Eddie to make out Waylon's expression.

“Come here.” Eddie said, after no move was made by Waylon.

Waylon stared at him a bit longer, being on guard. He slowly came forward, watching Eddies movement from what he could notice. Eddie grabbed him into a close hug, holding him sideways against his chest. He slowly slid back against a locker side plate, going down into a sitting position. The movement and hold forced Waylon to sit with him, sitting into his lap.

When he was seated in Eddie's lap he was tense. slowly relaxing into the warmth surrounding him over time. He looked up at Eddie watching him for a moment. Eddie kept his arms loosely around Waylon. resting his head against the locker wall with his eyes closed to sleep.  
After seeing Eddie ready to sleep, he slowly shifted into a comfortable place. He rested his head against Eddies chest, keeping his hands in his own lap. He let out a relaxing breath as he closed his eyes. Listening to Eddies heart beat and his slow breathing helped calm him. He'd never felt this relaxed as he was now in his entire time in the asylum.

The feeling was abnormal to him, being used to being always on guard. He never thought he could be relaxed in this place, even in his safe place in the vents. He opened his eyes again, watching Eddies chest slowly rise and fall with each breath. He turned his head more towards his chest, lightly kissing it before shifting back into place. A thought of the file in his bag passing through his mind as he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adventure and danger,
> 
> love from a stranger  
> Let me be surprised
> 
> You should all be concerned for that file.


	17. Surprise

Waylon woke up snuggled into Eddie. The warmth keeping his body relaxed. The enclosed space making him feel safe from the threats in the environment. He raised his head and shifted, waking Eddie. Eddie got his head off the locker metal, cracking his neck from the odd angle it rested in.

“What time is it?” Waylon asked as he yawned.

“Don’t know.” Eddie said as he slowly got up, letting Waylon slowly stand. Waylon stretched as Eddie got out, leaving him in the lockers.

“Stay here.” he commanded as he went out of the room. Waylon obeyed, watching the door way and listening for anything. The silence from Eddies steps made Waylon nervous. He couldn’t track what Eddie was doing, he could be walking or sneaking. He couldn’t be sure, and calling out would be a bad idea.

The thought of reading his file gained some interest, but he thought against it. He didn’t want Eddie to catch him reading it, Then try to read it himself and finding stuff on his family. He felt relief when Eddie returned, showing no sign for concern.

“It's night, time to go.” Eddie said.

“See any Murkoff?” Waylon asked, stepping out of the locker.

“No, but I also didn’t see any sign of them passing through. They mite still be up ahead.” Eddie said, leading the way out.

“Could be blocking the exit.” Waylon said, following beside him.

“What shall we do if they are?” Eddie asked, walking down the darkened burnt hall.

“The only thing would be to escape out a window. cant go backwards or wed be trapped more into the building. We have to make it into that courtyard, its the only place up to the river where there’s no electric fences.” Waylon said, looking down at the black floor. Eddie nodded.

“How much medication have you taken today?” Eddie asked.

“Just two pills this morning.” Waylon said.

“You should take the last two.” Eddie said.

“No, I don’t want to be out of it right now. I wanna hold off till we are actually out of here.” Waylon said.

“If you skip them you’ll have to wait till tomorrow morning for them. The Depression could affect you before then.” Eddie said, pointing out the costs to Waylon.

“I know, but a bit of depressions better then being in a medicine haze.” Waylon said.

“How's your face been doing?” Eddie asked.

“Eh, its been better. Still sore, but its closed itself.” Waylon said, running his hand gently over the stitched, scabbed over, gash.

“At least Barker didn’t hook my eye.” Waylon said.

“Do you know what happened to Barker?” Waylon asked Eddie. He assumed his followers killed him, but it was never confirmed.

“He was eaten by his followers.” Eddie said with joy. Waylon held in a laugh.

“Better then I thought.” Waylon said.

“wait.” Eddie said, stopping him.

“What?” Waylon whispered.

“There are foot prints in the dust.” Eddie pointed to them on the dust covered floor. Clean spots of boot prints from picking up dust.

“Stay quiet and look around corners before walking.” Eddie said as he slowly continued.

“There’s an office area ahead we can cut through to get to the other half of the building.” Waylon whispered.

“It has more offices we can sneak and cut through. Avoiding the main hallway.” he said.

“Lead the way.” Eddie said. Waylon lead them down the hallway, freezing when he saw light beams from Murkoff flash lights appear down the hall. Eddie grabbed him and yanked him into a nearby room to quickly cut through. He peeked out the doorway, watching as the last few Murkoff passed through a doorway to the other side.

Eddie gestured for Waylon to go forward when he silently left the door way. Waylon lead the way again, carefully peeking around the corner Murkoff went down. Seeing no sign of Murkoff he continued down the hall.

“God I fucking hate Murkoff. I had hoped they wouldn’t be here and this would go smoothly. It never worked for me that way. God I hate this place.” Waylon thought, anger building.

“Almost free though. So close, yet so far away. I hope Lisa’s alright, hopefully I can get a letter to her.” he thought. The depression was slowly creeping onto him, soon it would cover his brain like a thick fog.

“You’re breathing heavy again.” Eddie said behind him. Waylon hadn’t noticed till it was pointed out to him. He took a deep breath, stopping himself. They both stopped at the sound of gun shots near by.

Waylon lead them through a few offices, avoiding the patrolling Murkoff. More gun shots were heard as they went through one room to the other.

“How close are we to that office?” Eddie asked, following behind.

“It shouldn’t be that far.” Waylon said, leading him up the hall.

He went up to the office doors and peeked inside for any Murkoff. Seeing no security they sneaked in. Waylon let out a sigh of relief, being there. The office was colossal with its own stairs, elevator, and multiple desks. To the side was a meeting room with a long black marble desk.

“stay here. I am going to walk the halls. See where they're going.” Eddie said.

“Wait, you can't go out there!” Waylon said.

“I have to. We have to know where they're heading. If we don’t we'll run right into them.” Eddie said as he got close to the door.

“No! There are too many of them out there!” Waylon said, afraid of being left alone.

“I promise I'll be back, shorty. Stay here.” Eddie said, leaving through the door.

Waylon's anxiety picked up, urging him to start pacing. He didn’t want to split up. He would feel devastated if something happened to Eddie now. His sleeves becoming twisted and wrinkled while he nervously fidgeted with them.

“I shouldn’t have let Eddie go, its not safe out there. Maybe I should go find him.” Waylon thought, twisting his sleeve again. The only thing stopping him was the order from Eddie.

Waylon needed to calm himself before he did something drastic. Usually he would talk or fiddle with his camera, both of those options gone now. He looked around the room to do something. Not seeing much or anything that would hold interest for long.

He heard voices coming close outside the door. He ran into the side meeting room to hide behind the marble desk. Getting out of sight as Murkoff security opened the door. He saw the flashlight beams go over the desk and scan across walls.

“See anything?” one voice asked.

“No.” another answered. He heard a group step into the room, shifting some things. Waylon kept his hands over his mouth to stay quiet. His breathing slow and quiet. One of them picked up a vase and threw it, smashing it to pieces on the wall. The sudden noise startled Waylon, almost letting out a noise.

“Knock that shit off!” one of them snapped.

“What? Not like this place is already wrecked.” another said, kicking a piece away.  
“You’re alerting the damn patients.” the other snapped again.

“What are a bunch of sick patients going to do? We can just shoot them.” the other said as he opened the door.

“Stop breaking shit.” the other replied, annoyed, as he left.

Waylon waited till he was sure they were gone. Not coming out into plain site, but only standing at his spot. He needed to keep him self busy. The only thing coming to mind was to read the file on him he found earlier. He sighed, setting his bag down to pull it out.

He pulled it from his bag and set it on the marble desk. His eyes examined over it quickly. He read the name tag and the long classified stamp across the dusty front. Waylon slowly opened the file scanning over the first paper. It explained basic profile information, health and notes.

“Patient has been showing good outer health under the engine therapy. Mental health has deteriorated however. Patient refuses to take medications, injections, food, and refuses to talk with doctors. Patient is aggressive and will fight given the chance. Must always be escorted to lab experiments.” Waylon read.

“Patient is under the watch of Dr. Andrew. All progress or set backs on patient must be reported to him. Therapy is to continue, with longer times, next season.” he continued to read down the page. He growled at Andrews name, moving the page out of the way. He started to scan over the next paper, which had an odd format for a document paper. The title at the top of it made his heart stop.

Order of outsider execution: ACCEPTED  
Murkoff corp.  
case ID: 5569  
date: 8/25/##

Waylon attentively read it, finding most of the important details blackened out. attached was a letter from Jeremy Blaire giving more info. his heart was slowly being crushed with each sentence.

I wish to thank you Mr. john for the approval of my execution order. Lisa park has been quite a nuisance. Even threatening to use legal action, like shed get far. But, better to handle her now then waste money and accidentally ruining Murkoff's image.

I have **taken care of her and her two brats**. Giving fake letters to family’s and schools saying that they moved abroad. **Such a shame for her husband** Waylon, ill tell him the news when we up his therapy time with the engine next season. If he even lasts that long with the mental deterioration. The progression on our projects have been running smoothly with him. I can promise you that **she most certainly wont be coming back and there will be no more worries.**

He couldn’t bare to look at the large signature at the bottom. His eyes were leaking heavy tears, falling off his face to the papers below him. He furiously hit the papers away. sending them to fall below the desk out of sight. He hid his head in his arms, on the desk, trying to hold back sobs.

“I could have done something. Could have saved them.” he thought, crying into his arms. He knew the date was before the riot.

“I should have escaped. Should have fought harder.” he thought, feeling guilty for his lack of action.

“But I fucking waited!” he roared inside.

“Darling?” he heard Eddie say gently. Eddie walked up behind the crying Waylon. Waylon opened his red tear filled eyes as Eddie put his hands on his shoulders. The action had Waylon turn around and hug him. looking for some small amount of comfort to keep from breaking down.

Eddie hugged him, rubbing his back to calm him down. he was unaware to what caused Waylon's sudden crying. only assuming it was because of depression kicking in. He allowed Waylon to cry into his chest, holding him close, not bothering him with questions.

Waylon cried non stop for ten minutes. When he did, Eddie left him alone in the room, going to watch the doors. Waylon was in no condition to sneak through halls at the moment. He needed to be left alone, being allowed to gather himself. His depression was working on his crushed heart. He felt heavy and hollow inside, like his soul had disappeared.

Hours had passed since then, his depression really attaching itself to him now. He felt no will to continue on. Everything in him was broken with minimal chance of being fixed. He continuously wiped water away from his eyes. Thinking about his helpless family being taken away to be killed somewhere.

“Nothing…I have nothing.” Waylon thought. His reason for living, to escape, was gone. His wife and kids slaughtered by Murkoff, ordered by Jeremy Blaire.

“No reason to go on.” he thought, a few more tears going past his shut eyes. He took a deep breath, swallowing back more sobs. He paused when he felt a presence behind him.

“We should continue.” Eddie said as he walked into Waylon's space.

“No.” Waylon said depressingly.

“Why?” Eddie asked, confused by his sudden unwillingness to continue.

“No reason to.” Waylon said.

“Why's that?” Eddie asked to get more information out of him.

“'Cause there’s nothing out there!” Waylon snapped with a growl, annoyed at the questions.

“You'll have me out there.” Eddie said, trying to bring Waylon up from his depression. The gesture of words Eddie offered backfired. There was a snap inside Waylon, his mind and emotions finally braking down inside. His family was dead and all he could see was Eddie mocking that he'll be the only thing out there for him.

“Of course _you'll_ be out there, but I don’t care if _you're_ out there. I wanted to get out because my family was out there. My **real** family in my **NORMAL** life. I had two fucking kids who’s names I can't even remember now! And my wife Lisa, who I WAS MARRIED TO, KILLED BY FUCKING BLARE! I HAVE NOTHING! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING OUT THERE!” Waylon yelled heatedly.

“BUT THAT MAKES EVERYTHING FINE WITH _YOU_ BEING OUT THERE, DOESN'T IT?! AFTER ALL, I AM GETTING STUCK IN A MARRIAGE I'VE NEVER WANTED OR CARED ABOUT! ONLY SOMETHING _YOU_ WANTED! I WISH _**YOU**_ HAD DIED ON THAT FUCKING POLE AND I HAD ESCAPED! I MIGHT HAVE SAVED THEM AND NEVER PUT UP WITH THIS FUCKING HELL!” Waylon continued until he broke down sobbing on the desk, shutting his eyes to hold back tears.

He was quick to try and gather himself. The action being a survival tactic he developed in time. It only took a moment until he was only silently crying in his arms. The silence of the room felt heavy. Waylon unaware of the reason why, although he should.

“...You lied?” he heard. the silence braking like shattering glass.

Waylon's body tensed, his eyes opening wide. his heart, feeling like it stopped as his brain realized all that he just confessed to. The world slowing to a stop around him, readying itself for what may happen next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAYLON!! SHUT UP!! ... too late.  
> run man!! run!!!
> 
> When all said and done,  
> it’s fun not to know  
> What keeps my heart humming  
> is guessing what’s coming  
> Let me be surprised


	18. Countdown

“You lied?!” Eddie repeated with a growl.

Waylon could feel himself shrinking. All his work crushed by his own stupid words. Now his next decision would be the out come of his survival. He didn’t want to face Eddie, afraid he would freeze under his gaze. If he wanted to survive though, he would have to turn soon.

He heard Eddie take an angry step towards him. Waylon forced his body to turn and face him, keeping his vulnerable back away. The look in Eddie's cold eyes screamed pure hatred for Waylon. The look made him feel sick with his heart feeling constricted.

“ I-I didn’t mean it.” Waylon said fearfully, backing up. He noticed Eddie was holding his knife in a tight grip. The sight of it had his blood freeze.

“Never cared about my marriage offer.” Eddie growled, coming closer.

“I cared! I cared!” Waylon said, trying to fix the shattered situation.

“Wanted me dead!” Eddie roared, coming more forward. Waylon stumbled over his feet, catching his balance before he could fall.

“I didn’t-” Waylon was interrupted.

“YOU USED ME!” Eddie roared, getting threateningly close as both of them rounded the table end. The situation was spiraling out of control for Waylon.

“YOU UNGRATEFUL WHORE!” Eddie yelled at him. The words hurt Waylon deeply. It felt like his heart was being torn from his chest.

“I-” he tried to start, but was interrupted again.

“Come here!” Eddie snapped. Waylon only backed up more with wide eyes, his senses telling him to run.

“COME HERE!” Eddie commanded. Waylon saw no other choice but to flee from him, and did exactly that, bolting down the halls.

“GET BACK HERE YOU BITCH!” he heard Eddie roar behind him. Waylon ran down halls, making turns and going through doors. Hearing Eddie shout commands and curses at him. There was a pause in Eddies yelling that caught Waylon's attention, but he refused to look back or stop.

“Stop!” he heard Eddie yell. The command sounded less threatening and more urgent. It tempted Waylon to stop, but he was afraid to.

“STOP!” Eddie repeated more urgently. 

“DARLING!” Eddie yelled. The word pulled at Waylon's heart, he had to stop. Waylon rounded a corner, intending to slow down for Eddie when he did. 

Instead of slowing, he stopped in his tracks when he was blinded by bright lights. He froze in place like a deer in head lights, the flashlights of Murkoff keeping him in place. He could just barely see the outlines of them shifting behind the lights bright glare. low whispers being heard behind the light. He took a step back at the sound of loaded guns clicking. 

“I'm dead.” he thought, watching in slow motion at guns being raised to him. He shut his eyes at a sudden touch near his neck. Being surprised when he was yanked to the side instead of being shot. He opened his eyes for a split second, seeing and hearing the loud gunshots being fired at where he used to stand. If he was moved a second later, he’d be dead.

He shut his eyes again, curling up on himself when he saw who grabbed him. Covering his head with his arms and his body tensing up. His body was ready for pain expecting to be punched or stabbed. But he didn’t feel pain, he felt himself being pushed and yanked down the hall away from Murkoff.

“Run! Run now!” Eddie commanded, yanking Waylon along. Knowing that Eddie was no longer a threat at the moment, he uncurled himself and started running. Avoiding nearly being shot again as they turned down a near by hall.

He ran through the halls again. Passing doorways and rooms to escape following Murkoff. After not Hearing, or seeing, any more of the Murkoff security behind him, he slowed down. Panting out of breath when he passed through another office door.

Waylon almost came to a full stop before he was yanked back. His back side thudding harshly into a wall. his instincts had his eyes shut closed at that moment, body tensing in an attempt to protect itself. Waylon saw nothing at the time when Eddie punched him in the face. He fell to the floor with a painful groan, grabbing his aching nose with his hands. With the feeling of warm blood dripping onto his hands, he opened his eyes. watching it drip to the carpet, the blood making a tap noise every time it landed.

“Get up!” Eddie growled when he yanked him back to his feet. Waylon let out a whimper as he was pulled up, flinching against the wall. just barely standing on the floor from how high he was held. His eyes winced and he grabbed onto Eddies wrists to try and gain some small control.

“I should string your guts along this room!” Eddie yelled, shaking Waylon violently by his shirt collar.

“But I fucking can't! I've wasted too much of my time to get you here! Like hell I'm allowing those Murkoff bastards to kill you first! I'll gut you myself when I'm out of this damned place!” Eddie snarled, smashing him into the wall again. Waylon let out a whimper of pain, shutting his eyes, acting submissive to keep Eddie from attacking him again.

“For now, I'm keeping you alive just to get out. after that I'll leave you in a ditch to rot.” he said, letting Waylon go.

Waylon slowly opened his eyes after being let go. He brought his hands back to his nose, feeling warm blood touch his fingers again. He lowered his hands down, looking at the thick blood smeared on them. In his mind he felt he deserved that punch, since he did use Eddie for the longest time.

He stood up, wiping the blood off his hands to his pants. removing the last bit of blood off his face with his sleeve. Waylon reached up to touch his face again, it felt sore and ached.

“At least it's not broken.” he thought. Eddie broke it the last time he punched him. After taking a moment to gather himself, he stepped lightly over to Eddie. Watching the man who refused to look at him. as if he really wanted to be under his gaze again. Eddie was waiting impatiently by the door, standing straight with crossed arms.

When Waylon got close, Eddie continued, not waiting for him to arrive at his side. Waylon's heart felt crushed at the unfriendly gesture. He really regretted saying those things. Not because it ruined his plans, but because it drove Eddie away from him. Eddie wouldn’t trust his word of apology now, only paying attention to escaping directions. Waylon sighed lightly, recalling what he said before. Thinking what Eddie had also said before that.

He didn’t like the reason why, but Eddie was right before. He was the only thing out there for him. No one else would be waiting for him. Now though, that affectionate waiting was something aggressive and lethal. He doubted Eddie would keep him around for long when free. Either chasing him off or killing him, if he refused to leave.

Waylon hated the silence between them. He wanted to talk, but that would only make things worse. Eddies temper would rise, threatening his life again. He felt alone, nothing was out there for him, not anymore. And what was he to do when outside? 

“I can't rely on Eddie's kindness like before, when free. He would be a threat outside, someone that would quickly kill me. All my specific talk of getting married “far away” to keep Eddie from killing me are right out the door, now worthless.” Waylon thought.

“We would have to go our separate ways when free. I may have to separate earlier when near the exit, avoid being attacked by Eddie.” he thought, his eyes tearing up. He blinked the water away, keeping himself together. He didn’t want Eddie to leave him. They just went through so much together, both having scars to prove it.

“Murkoff tests, riots, the puppeteer, saviors, Barker.” Waylon thought, recalling the memory’s. He had to stop, he was just torturing himself now.

He had to face facts, the relationship they had was gone. No matter how much time they had together, or what they went through. He had to hold back more tears. Taking a deep breath to suck his emotions back in. Waylon's depression repeatedly forcing its way through the walls he built.

Eddie stopped, listening for any sign of Murkoff. From lack of attention, Waylon walked into him. Eddies body tensed at the touch and he shot Waylon a cold glare over his shoulder. Waylon flinched away at the glare, creating a space between them. Eddie let out an aggravated huff, looking forward again. “This way.” Eddie said, leading down a side hall. The hall lead down to a decontamination door. Eddie passed the first door and before Waylon could pass it, the first door slammed shut. Eddie saw the door lock behind him, running past the last door just before it locked shut to. The two glanced at each other, now separated by the locked decontamination doorway.

Before either could pass words to another, the second metal layer of doors blocked the sight of each other. The sound of hissing gas heard through the metal. Waylon grew worried, questions going in his head. The door was most certainly not going to open. Murkoff had tampered with it, making it a trap. If they had been trapped in the decontamination room, they would have suffocated on gas. Luckily Eddie reacted quick enough to get out in time.

“Eddie!” Waylon yelled. He wanted to hear some kind of confirmation that Eddie was there. Hoping that Eddie didn’t abandon him after the doors shut them off from another.

“Run away from the door!” Eddie yelled from the other side, his voice muffled through the walls. Waylon felt comfort at hearing Eddie's voice. Knowing that he didn’t just leave. His comfort overshadowed what Eddie had said, blocking it out.

“What?” Waylon yelled.

“Get away from the door!” Eddie repeated. After the repeat, Waylon noticed Murkoff lights down the far hall. They were coming to check there trap. Waylon went silent, rushing off from the door. He snuck close against the walls in the shadows. Peeking around corners, taking multiple directions to get past Murkoff personnel.

He was getting nervous as more Murkoff were appearing. Waylon had to take twice as many turns to avoid patrols, back tracking on some occasions. he was afraid of getting lost in this massive office maze he was navigating. Something was going on, paranoia screaming at him to find a weapon.

His paranoia lead him to search rooms. Feeling unsafe in all the ones he passed through. while searching a desk, he found near by a broken piece of metal chair. It was big enough to fit his hand, and had a sharp jagged broken end. It wasn’t the greatest weapon to have, but it would work well enough in this situation.

The nervous grip he had on it made his knuckles white. He snuck back out into the dark halls. Creeping along the walls in the shadows.

“I should find a way back to Eddie…shouldn't I?” Waylon thought. He wanted to go find Eddie, but he was a threat now. He had to avoid threats. He knew the way out of here and he could escape by himself. But he couldn’t find it in himself to leave without him, even if Eddie wouldn’t do the same.

He took a deep breath to bring up some much needed courage. Navigating down a hall that would lead to the closest possible entrance to the building half holding Eddie. He jumped at the sound of lightning, a flash lighting up the hall. The engine was awakened, his skull feeling like it was just beaten with a brick.

“Dammit!!” he thought, wincing in pain. Luck was depleting on Waylon's side. The last luck he had was finding a weapon and that it was a pouring storm outside. The heavy rain would distort the flashes, dulling the engine's violent reactions.

He took another deep breath to continue. Finding his way to a stair case, he went slowly up a floor. he’d find a second stair case, on that floor, to go down to Eddies area. A flash of lightning lit up the narrow stair space. The feeling of another brick being smashed into his head had Waylon fall against the wall. He panted and winced, squeezing the side of his head to pressure some pain away.

He got up again, walking up the stairs with a hand on the wall. He waited for a group of Murkoff to pass by, sneaking away when they were out of sight. He jumped, hitting the wall with his side when he heard lightning. Thankfully there were no windows in the hall to see a flash.

“I need to find Eddie, he'd at least keep me from breaking down under the engine. Make sure I won't run into Murkoff under hallucination terrors.” Waylon thought, stepping quickly down a hall. He peeked around a corner, seeing a group of Murkoff standing guard down a hall.

“Why so many? There weren’t as many during the Walrider quarantine.” he thought, sneaking away as more came from another branching hall. He was beginning to feel cramped around here. Murkoff were closing in, if he didn’t pay attention he would get cornered.

He slipped by a few more guarding groups. Hiding from walking patrols. And avoided being almost shot twice. This had been going on for two hours. Waylon was becoming mentally and physically exhausted. Between the lightning storm and Murkoff, he was becoming a nervous wreck. The depression bringing down his willingness to continue. “Fucking dammit!” he whispered. Waylon had finally found the staircase, but it was guarded.  
“the other one has to be guarded by now to.” he thought. He felt sick, he was trapped on this floor in the middle of a Murkoff quarantine area and Eddie was still missing.

“Is he dead, or did he escape without me?” Waylon thought. He didn’t want either of those scenarios to happen. He didn’t want to be left alone at the mercy of Murkoff. With no help willing to come for him. He had to take deep breaths again, anxiety restricting his breathing.

He leaned against a cold wall, wheezing in deep breaths. The engine was slowly coming alive under these feelings. The painful consistent buzzing in the back of his skull burning there. He needed to hide somewhere or face the engine fully activating to distort his surroundings.

He slowly went along the wall, one hand on it to keep him from falling. He peeked into a near by room for Murkoff. Finding it empty, he went in and sat down on an office chair. Gasping in air to catch up with his wheezing. When his breathing finally did catch up, a door on the other side of the room opened. Murkoff security saw him as they opened the door, pointing guns and flash lights at him.

He bolted from his chair, running through the nearby door he entered. Shots were fired into the chair right as he got up, shredding it, the bullets following after Waylon in a thick trail. A bullet went through the door way he passed, leaving a gash as it sliced the back of his leg. He yelped, stumbling down the hall as his blood dripped to the floor, leaving a trail.

He panted as he ran. The engines buzzing turning to unbearable. His eyes blurring and darkening. Flashes of red, body’s appearing to litter the floor. Another flash and the hallucination of a Murkoff soldier appeared in front of him. It made him fall, smashing into the floor shoulder first and rolling to a stop on his side.

He looked up to see the soldier, but the hall was empty. He panted as he knew it was just another hallucination. He growled in frustration, hitting the floor. He got up stiffly, feeling sore from crashing into the floor. He looked at his leg, seeing the gash drip blood.

Waylon looked up, hearing the Murkoff security coming. He headed around the corner, running down the hall. He couldn’t keep running like this. He would have to find a new place to hide and rest, or find some way off this floor.

“If I could find a drainage pipe near a window. I could climb down outside or up to the roof if I need to.” Waylon thought, rushing to find a wall with windows. He saw a flash of light from a hall. It stung his brain, but at least it meant there was a window that way.

He ran down the hall, peeking around the corner from the flashes source. No one patrolling or guarding the hall. He saw a huge window at the end of the hall. A possible escape in his site perked him up. He went up to the last corner at the end of the new hall. He quickly peeked around it. Seeing a long hall with a whole wall of windows.

“One of these has to have a rain gutter!” Waylon thought, going up to the first window. He looked through the glass, seeing no gutters. He ran further down to another window, looking out for a gutter. He turned away from the window, stunned to see a familiar face just a little down the hall. He stared blankly in surprised shock at him.

“Mr. park.” the suited man smiled, pointing a silver gun at Waylon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only 2 chapters left in this story. the count down begins. :3


	19. Dying Heartbeats

“Blaire.” Waylon glared at his ex-boss. He shifted his body, preparing it to run back down the hall behind him. Blaire saw the slight movement and to show his displeasure for it, he shot Waylon in the shoulder.

“FUCKING GOD!” Waylon cursed in pain. He fell against the wall, gripping his bleeding left shoulder. He breathed quickly through tightly gritted teeth, suffering through the pain. He put his left arm on the wall, slowly getting back to his feet.

“Come on Park. You knew that was a stupid move.” Blaire mocked, moving a few steps closer. 

“I have to run. I hesitated after shifting, I should have ran.” Waylon thought. As if Blaire could read his mind, he reminded Waylon of the situation he was in.

“I suggest against another attempt to run, because next time I'll shoot you in the face.” Blaire grinned, still holding his gun at Waylon. Waylon glared at him, thinking of anyway to escape.

“You know Mr. Park, I'm actually surprised to see you alive. Managing to survive the Walrider out break and the riot. You're very hard to kill, harder then a roach even. Maybe you shouldn’t have been put in the engine experiments. You would have done more in injection's testing.” he smiled as he approached.

“I was going to “let go” all the patients here, but I'll be happy to overlook you Waylon. So what do you say? Stay a team player with Murkoff, Or leave?” Blaire smiled, standing in front of Waylon.

Waylon took a deep breath. He knew an escape and although it could end badly, it was better then being trapped by Blaire. He swung his jagged weapon at him, slicing Jeremy’s face. Blaire growled, quickly recovering from the attack, shooting at Waylon. The bullet missed as Waylon smashed out the large second story window.

Waylon fell on his side onto the thickly muddied ground of a small alley way. Being stuck between the large electric fence and the brick wall building. He let out a groan, feeling his body getting soaked from the pouring rain outside. He stiffly rose from the ground, blood dripping from multiple stabs and slashes from broken glass. He pulled out a few, obvious, broken pieces in his skin. Waylon leaned against the wall, his body aching from the tall fall. It was a miracle he didn’t get any broken bones.

He started to walk forward, stumbling back when a bullet shot into the brick wall in front of him. He looked up at the shattered window. Jeremy Blaire was leaning out of it, pointing his gun in Waylon's direction. The darkness from outside being the only thing that made Blaire miss. Waylon moved faster down the narrow alley he was in. freezing every five steps as a bullet shot by him. When Blaire stopped to reload, Waylon rushed around the buildings corner.

“Dammit.” Blaire cursed as he watched Waylon disappear. he went back inside the building calling some security.

Waylon slowed down from the pain, looking around for Blaire. Waylon knew from experience that Blaire was very determined. Blaire was sure to hunt him down till he was dead or captured. Guessing from how he hit Jeremy's face, it was going to be the first one. He stopped to lean forward against the wall, shivering and panting. 

He was lightheaded, losing a lot of blood from the bullet wound, and gashes covering his body. The cold rain pouring over his body that flushed the blood away was not helping the matter. His body shot up straight when bright lights were shined on him. His body twitched when he commanded it to run. His body unable to cooperate from the pain along with missing blood.

“What's the matter? Can't run, Mr. Park?” Blaire mocked, a tinge of aggressiveness in his voice. A group of Murkoff security standing around him, pointing guns at Waylon. Two security officers went up to Waylon, grabbing him to drag him back into the building.

Most of his body went limp when he was dragged away. Only keeping his legs working to slightly walk along. Body stiffening up in pain when he was yanked by them down halls or around corners. They stopped in front of a heavily guarded door.

“Hope you like making friends. We caught someone who seemed very interested in you.” Blaire said. security opened the door and shoved Waylon into the dark room.

Being weak he just fell onto the floor, hearing the door shut and lock behind him. He groaned as he got up again, being hard for his weak legs to stand. he winced in pain as he leaned on a nearby desk for support.

“Darling?” he heard from behind him. He took in a sudden breath of air, remembering that Blaire said someone was in here. Despite wanting to find Eddie earlier now he wanted to be away. His body was too sore and weak to deal with Eddies aggressiveness at the moment.

His body grew tenser as he could hear Eddie stepping closer. He choose not to face or answer him. Feeling that being silent would be better for both of them. Not facing him was more of a decision by his injured body. He stayed still, nervousness growing as he knew Eddie was standing right behind him.

Waylon's back flinched away when it was touched. He let out a loud yelp as a long sliver of glass was yanked out of his back. He breathed quickly through gritted teeth to ride out the pain. Finding it harder to stand on his feet after that glass removal.

His body moved away after feeling he was touched again, unwilling to experience more pain. Eddie put his hands on Waylon sides, stopping him from retreating away. Waylon's body reacted by the side touch, moving forward to close the small space between him and the table. The movement away caused Eddie to move closer to him. Waylon being boxed in between the table and Eddies body. The closeness made Waylon swallow as he felt the warmth of Eddies chest on his back.

“Hold still. You have more pieces in your back.” Eddie commanded, pulling out another shard. Waylon hissed in pain, his hands turning to fists on the desk.  
“did you jump out a window?” Eddie asked.

“Yes.” Waylon said. Keeping the conversation short.

“Trying to get into the courtyard?” Eddie asked.

“No, escaping Blaire. He still shot me before then.” Waylon said.

“Where?” Eddie said, anger showing in his tone. Even more of it showing when he harshly ripped out another shard. Waylon was silent, the pain having taken his breath at the moment. The last few shards were removed quicker and gentler. A sign of apology from removing the other piece too roughly.

“My shoulder.” Waylon said. Eddie turned him around to face him, pulling more shards he spotted. After a quick scan of Waylon, his attention turned to the small bullet hole in his shoulder. He unbuttoned his shirt a bit, making Waylon nervous and watchful of the event. Eddie moved the shirt over to fully reveal the bloody bullet hole.

He pulled out his knife to cut out the bullet. Waylon went pale at the sight of it, fear telling him to run from it. His body stepped away to get further from the knife. Only stopping because Eddie blocked his escape with his arm. Eddie pressed himself against Waylon, constricting his movement, stopping him from getting any further.

Waylon struggled against him to get away from the threatening knife. Shrinking away from it as it got close. Eddie watched his reaction to it, finding it intriguing that Waylon was afraid from a simple knife. He let out a sigh as he put it away. He'd get the bullet out another way that wouldn’t have Waylon get a heart attack.

Waylon calmed down again as the knife disappeared. His body tensed up when Eddie moved his shirt over again. Watching intently as he came close to the wound. He was going to say something until Eddie started sucking on the wound. He stopped breathing, stunned at what Eddie was doing.

He winced as the pain built up, releasing when Eddie stopped. Eddie quickly looked away to the side, spitting a mouthful of blood out. Waylon took in a deep breath before Eddie continued. Waylon finally felt the bullet pulled from him. Watching when Eddie spit the metallic round to the floor. Hearing a ting from it as it hit the floor.

“Can clean the wound later.” Eddie said as he fixed Waylon's shirt, straightening it out. He spat to the side a few times, getting rid of more blood in his mouth. Waylon hugged him, burying his face into Eddie's chest.

“Thank you.” Waylon said, muffled by his chest. Eddie smiled hugging Waylon close. he put his chin on top of Waylon's head, raking a hand through his hair. Waylon enjoyed the affection, feeling the pain melt away from his multiple cuts and slashes. The moment he had being crushed in a second by one voice.

“Oh…lovely, you’ve made friends.” Blaire said, a disappointed tone.

“Disappointed Eddie didn’t kill me.” Waylon thought, angry that Eddie had to release his hold.

“We have to continue on, so you two are being rehoused.” Blaire said. Security surrounded them, forcing them to move. The pain Waylon felt around him returned, requiring Eddie's help to hold him up as he walked. The two were escorted to a lab with a walk in freezer. Waylon panicked as the security opened the freezer door. Pushing them into the cold, small, dark space. “Eddie's going to panic in here.” he thought, pushing back against the security forcing them forward. Once inside the door was locked shut behind them. The room going pitch black.

“Eddie?! Eddie say something!” Waylon said, adrenaline rising. Waylon was panting, thinking of what to do when there was no answer.

“Don’t worry. You two won't be left here forever. Just until we're done cleaning things up. When we come back and if you're alive we'll let you out. Till then, just hold on.” Blaire said in a cheerful tone.

Waylon glared in the direction of the door. Turning his head to look in the direction of where Eddie was. He swallowed, taking a deep breath, as he reached his hand out. He knew the idea was horrible from past experiences. but it was the first step to try and make Eddie aware of his surroundings. He slowly moved towards Eddie, grazing him when he reacted.

“Get away from me!” Eddie roared, swinging at him. Waylon was prepared, dropping to the floor. Waylon got a glimpse of Eddie by the sparks he created when slicing the metal freezer door with his knife. This situation was more horrible then the others before it. Eddie had a hold of his knife this time. Waylon could take a punch, but not a knife. Waylon examined the metal freezer door.

“Too thick for Eddie to bash down.” Waylon thought. he found the edge of the door, seeing a thin line of light. He scanned down the light, seeing it cut off at the middle of the door and continuing four inches later.

“The latch.” he said.

“I could use something long and thin to pop up the latch. Like…a knife.” Waylon thought, looking back at Eddie. His goal now was to get that knife, before that could happen he needed to help Eddie.

Waylon opened and closed his hands nervously. Breathing in and out to prepare himself. Touching was an absolute no, leaving only talking. First he needed to bring Eddie back to now then in the shed.

“Eddie, you're not in the shed anymore...” he said as calmly as possible. Pausing to give Eddie's mind a time to soak in the words. The pause seemed to be the longest wait in his life.

“You’re in a freezer. With Waylon...” he continued. using names so Eddie wouldn’t assume he was with a threat.

“No.” Eddie said, panting heavily.

“Yes, you're not in the shed anymore… you're with Waylon, in a freezer.” he repeated, gaining a little confidence that Eddie spoke a word. This time had no answer, dampening Waylon's confidence. He took another deep breath.

“Eddie, you're with Waylon… in a freezer.” he said, breaking it down a bit more.

“Who?” Eddie asked, his panting not coming down.

“Waylon...” he said slowly.

“We are in a freezer.” he said.

“Who?” Eddie repeated.

“Your darling.” Waylon said, an attempt to stir up some memories.

“No.” Eddie growled. Waylon's chest constricted at the set back.

“You're with me, Waylon, in a freezer.” Waylon said sternly.

“No, no, no, no.” Eddie repeated, aggression seeping from his voice.

“Yes, you're in here with me!” Waylon yelled, frustrated with Eddie's denial.

“No! I'm trapped in here alone, dying in a god damned shed!” Eddie roared, punching the metal furiously and repeatedly. Waylon stepped back, glaring at the darkness Eddie stood in.

“I'm trapped with you! We are both dying in here! In. a. freezer!” Waylon snapped at him. They both went silent. Waylon sighed, looking behind himself to look towards the door.

“why are you here?” Eddie growled. Waylon was surprised by the question.

“Trapped. by. Murkoff.” Waylon said slowly, keeping his answer as short as possible.

“By Jeremy Blaire?” Eddie asked, his panting going down.

“Yes, by Jeremy Blaire.” Waylon said, overwhelming joy flooding him.

“Where is he? I'll kill him.” Eddie growled.

“He's outside the freezer. We have to get out of it.” Waylon said, slowly approaching. He lightly touched Eddie, flinching away when his body jolted and tensed at the touch. Waylon smiled at the non violent movement and slowly moved closer till he could hug Eddie's side.

Waylon realized just how cold both of them were in the freezer as he held onto Eddie. He slowly moved till he was in front of Eddie, still holding him.

“I love you.” Waylon said, nuzzling Eddies chest. Eddie's body relaxed at those words, returning the hug.

Waylon looked up at Eddie when his hug loosened, getting the familiar bitter coffee taste when he was kissed. He returned the kiss happily, stopping as he thought about escaping again. He grabbed the knife from Eddies hand. The knife was relinquished with no questions.

Waylon grabbed Eddie's hand, pulling him along to the door. He assumed the touch would help Eddie stay grounded and keep him from going to the shed again. Waylon slid the long blade through the small space. slowly lifting the latch up till he could open the door. When he was out Waylon looked around the area, looking for the way to escape.

“Where do we go?” Eddie asked.

“We're on the wrong half of the building. we need to make a loop around to the other half. For now, we follow Murkoff till we can split away.” Waylon said, leading down the hall Murkoff most likely headed down. The adrenalin from earlier blocked all his pain, allowing him to walk quickly for now.

The two followed Murkoffs trail till there hall appeared, splitting off to it. They ran down the halls, unwilling to slow down as they neared there freedom. Just as they got on track, Waylon ran by a hall catching a glimpse of Murkoff security.

His head shot around to look at Eddie in fear. He made it past the hall while Eddie managed to skid to a halt and avoid the massive barrage of bullets that almost got him. They were separated again by a wall of bullets. Eddie gestured for him to continue, before running off in the other direction.

Waylon didn’t want them to separate, getting a sickening feeling in his gut. He knew Murkoff wouldn’t let them reach each other now. They had to find there own way back to each other. He regrettably ran down the hall he was in, running from the now chasing Murkoff.

He ran by halls, noticing that no security was following him. He was worried that they had all followed Eddie. He slowed down to a stop when he approached the doors to the large courtyard. He looked at the doors, thinking of how far they used to be. He looked back down the hall, watching it as if he would see Eddie return. It didn’t feel right to exit the doors without Eddie.

He continued watching, perking up at the sight of movement. Dread grew in him as he saw a glint of silver. Waylon dropped to the floor when he heard the gun shot off. A bullet pierced into a metal door beside him. Waylon was forced to leave the no longer safe hall, leaving through the doors into the courtyard. It was still pouring out side, soaking Waylon even more.

The cold was effecting his slashes, making them sting in the blowing air. His pain returning as he rushed through the courtyard. The courtyard was a massive maze of 8ft concrete walls, barbwire, thick muddied ground, and a few openings of mini courtyards.

“Why don’t you ever listen, Mr. Park?! You obviously don’t know what's best for your health!” Waylon heard Blaire yell clearly over the rain. Waylon continued to walk against the wall, having no idea of which way was right. He only headed in the direction he knew the river was.

He turned, jumping as a bullet shot off a chunk of the concrete corner he just passed. Blaire was catching up to him. Waylon started panting as he rushed forward into the maze. flinching as another bullet flew by his head, breaking the wall in front of him. He looked back, seeing glint of Blaire's gun down the path. He bolted down another way to get out of Blaire's sight. looking back when he heard the gun shot off again.

Waylon got out into an opening. It was a small round area in the maze with benches, a fountain, trees, and dead body’s littering the place like every other. He didn’t like being out in the open. running to the closest exit out of the place.

“Stop running, face it, its over! I already killed your damned wife for not minding her own damn business! No one's coming to save you, Park!” Blaire yelled through the rain.

Waylon stopped to catch his breath. Shivering in pain as he watched blood flow out his wounds into the dark dirt. He groaned as he continued down the maze, stopping when he ran into a dead end. He stared at the flat wall, turning around to head back. He stopped at the corner as another shot was heard.

Waylon peeked around the corner. Slowly retracing his steps to the small opening. He looked around, running to another entrance getting only half way. He yelped, feeling a bullet hit the back of his leg. He fell, skidding on the water covered bricks below him.

He breathed through gritted teeth. Forcing his body to get up despite the massive pain he was in. Blaire walked up, kicking Waylon in the ribs to force him down. Waylon let out a groan, breathing being difficult now. He felt a sharp pain every time his chest expanded. His thoughts wondering if he had broken ribs.

Waylon looked up, seeing past a few wet strands of hair, watching Blaire. Blaire stared down at him, not a hint of remorse in his features. He pointed his gun at Waylon's head, preparing to shoot him. Waylon shut his eyes tight, preparing for anything.

He heard a loud whack and a few loud cursing from Blaire. Waylon opened his eyes, watching Eddie attack Blaire. Eddie yanked up Blaire from the wet ground, holding tightly to the mans suit collar. Blaire growled at him, trying to yank free.

“YOU FUCKING SHOT HIM!” Eddie roared at Blaire. Blaire glared back, growing a wide grin as he pointed his gun at Eddies face. Eddie stared at the barrel of the gun in surprise, realizing his mistake too late. All in one second, Blaire cocked the gun and pulled the trigger.

The noise after, echoed through the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WILL NOT BE POSTING THE FINAL CHAPTER!!! (ALL COMMENTS RECEIVED: CHAPTER IS UP!!! =] ) 
> 
> unless ...  
> i get comments from 10 different people. =] only 1 comment per person needed.
> 
> other wise you will NEVER read the last chapter. will Waylon die? or will Lisa magically be alive and swoop in on a FBI helicopter? or maybe something else mite happen.
> 
> who knows? only I do. *evil laugh*
> 
> the escape logo looks like it has a gunshot splatter. hmm, i wonder whhhyyy??


	20. Leap of faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the comments!! :3

The sound that echoed between the two fighters was a small, unsatisfying, click.

The recognizable sound of an empty gun. Eddie's look of surprise slowly turned into a look of anger, While Blaire's grin shrunk down in fear. Blaire pulled the trigger a few more times, hearing only small clicks from the empty gun.

Waylon watched as the air around them changed, turning darker as Eddie's position changed. He recalled all the times Blaire shot at him in the maze, all 6 bullets zooming by him. Only one bullet managed to actually hit him, the last one Blaire had.

A wide grin on Eddie grew, being so large it would make the Cheshire cat jealous. Blaire swung at him with his gun, missing when Eddie dodged it. Eddie smashed a fist into Blaire's chest, snaps and cracking being heard over the rain. Blaire fell to the ground, letting out a wheezing groan, coughing up blood after.

Waylon couldn’t watch anymore after that. Eddie was going to torture Blaire and he didn’t think he had the stomach to see it all. He turned his head to look in the opposite direction. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to get up, so he stayed on the ground, no matter how cold and wet it was. It would give his body a moment to recuperate from being shot twice, jumping out a 2 story window, and running bloody through a maze.

While laying there he went in and out of an exhausted haze. Hearing mixtures of screaming, yelling, cracks, punches, scuffles, and other sounds he couldn’t properly make out. He preferred focusing on trying to stay alive, focusing more on pain or blood flowing in the water around him. At one point he was sure he blacked out, opening his eyes when Eddie started picking him up.

Eddie held him up, hugging him close to warm him up. Waylon limply held back, trying to find where his numb legs were to plant them on the ground.

“Can you stand?” Eddie asked.

“I think so.” Waylon shivered out. When his feet were planted, he slowly stood. Wincing when the pain jumped in his shot leg. Eddie allowed him to stand, keeping his arms out to catch Waylon if he collapsed. After Waylon stood for a moment, Eddie lowered his arms in the trust that Waylon could stand.

Waylon quickly examined Eddie, looking at all the fresh blood on him wash away. The flowing blood revealed a slash in his side. Perfectly round cut that was made by a bullet going by. He also spotted 2 similar ones on his right arm. One near his shoulder and the other close to his wrist.

“You okay?” Waylon asked, shivering. Based on how the two looked it seemed like Waylon shouldn’t be the one asking that question. Eddie nodded to him with a smile.

“Are you?” Eddie asked.

“I've been through worse.” Waylon smiled. He wasn’t sure if that was the truth or not.

“ I don't know the way through the maze.” Waylon said, looking at the multiple entrances they were near.

“We can figure it out. We have made it this far.” Eddie said, looking at the entrances.

“I assume if we headed in one direction we could get to the river.” Waylon said, looking in the direction he knew the river was in.

“Got nothing else to go on.” Eddie said, walking next to Waylon as they passed through a entrance.

Waylon limped along the wall, one hand against it. His whole body was in pain, but his skin was numbed from the cold. The rain had lightened up, no longer being a drenching fall. At least the rain did one good thing by cleaning off the blood and mud on both of them.

A flash of lightning bolted over head through the sky. Eddie had to catch Waylon from falling down as the light hurt him. Waylon got back up to his feet, moving quicker after the flash.

“Don't push yourself now.” Eddie said.

“I'm not, and I want to get as far away from this place as possible. We just need to reach the river, climb over the junk pile, and we'll be free from there.” Waylon said.

“We have to stop somewhere. Get dry and warm.” Eddie said, watching Waylon shiver in front of him.

“Yeah.” Waylon agreed.

“Maybe we'll have luck and a building will be nearby.” Waylon said.

The two jumped at a loud explosion, stopping when the maze lighted up. The two looked behind them, seeing bright fire appearing behind the large courtyard for a millisecond. The fire quickly died in the cold rain, turning the maze dark.

“What was that?” Waylon asked nervously.

Voices were soon heard, yelling and shouting. The beams of flash lights passing through the air. Murkoff security was coming, looking for who ever killed Blaire. Eddie gently pushed Waylon forward to make him move.

“We have to get out they're blowing up the maze. ” Waylon said, limping quickly down the pathways. Another explosion of fire destroyed more maze walls. Dirt and small pieces of concrete raining down over Waylon and Eddie as they hurried through.

Waylon felt overwhelming relief as they exited the maze. His relief was soon shattered at the river. The small pile of junk they were suppose to easily climb over, was anything but that. It was a massive dam of junk that was around 30 feet high. Blocking the only exit they had between the narrow space of mountains.

“How could I have made this mistake.” Waylon thought. When he first saw the blockage, about a thousand and eighty feet away, it was very clearly seen from a distance. He should have known it would have been bigger up close. He never thought of it though, he was too happy knowing there was an escape. The river, that was also seen from afar, was massive. having quick rapids that ended shortly with a waterfall to more lethal rapids.

“Still climb it?” Waylon said, looking at the unclimbable junk. He had no other ideas.

“Smells like chemicals over here.” Eddie said. Another explosion in the maze lit up the junk. Waylon noticed a thick sludge dripping from the barb wire that twisted along the wall. By the smell and recognizable thick oil look, Waylon knew it was that junk Andrew had when he stabbed his leg with a needle.

“We can't climb this.” Waylon said. he looked at the multiple dead body’s tangled up and shredded in the barb fire. The corpses seemed fresh in the uncut areas, while the rest were pus filled rot.  
“It's covered in that infecting slime oil.” Waylon said.

“How do we get by it?” Eddie asked.

“...I don't know. This was all I had.” Waylon said, fearing of being trapped clouding over him. Waylon looked around to try and spot an exit. The maze was behind him, the river was in front covered and surrounded by the toxic junk dam. The only escape available was the steep drop of the ice cold water fall. Who knew what could be at the bottom of that. more sharp junk or jagged rocks?

Another explosion in the maze, more yelling being heard, then it went abnormally quiet very fast. Waylon and Eddie paused, watching the maze, they knew something was wrong. Waylon heard an odd far off thudding or chopping noise.

“Do you hear that?” Waylon asked, looking at Eddie.

“It's a helicopter.” Eddie growled at the air, staring in the direction of a moving spot light. It was heading towards them, getting louder as it approached.  
“we need to run or hide. It will shoot us when it gets here.” Eddie said.

“I-I don’t have anything. We cant climb, the maze is a death trap!” Waylon said frantically.

“What if we jump?” Eddie said, bringing Waylon to the edge of the sheer drop next to the water fall.

“What?! No, no, no, no!” Waylon repeated, shaking his head.

“We can't make that. There could be sharp rocks at the bottom. If we manage to miss the rocks, the rapids would either drown us or smash us into other rocks down the line.” Waylon said, looking down the waterfall. Feeling sick at the site while thinking of jumping.

“Sounds better then getting shot by a helicopter.” Eddie said, jumping across large rocks in the river.

“What are you doing??!!” Waylon asked, looking quickly back at the enclosing helicopter.

“Better chance of surviving if we jump from the middle of the waterfall.” Eddie said, being half way there. Waylon looked back and forth from the raging river to the lethal helicopter. He cautiously jumped to the first rock, almost losing his footing on the sleek surface.

He took deep breaths, regaining him self to jump to the next rock. He avoided looking off the waterfall at all cost till he made it to the middle rock with Eddie. Waylon felt sick, going pale as he glanced at the jump they were to make.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Waylon said, sickness in his tone. He kept breathing deeply to avoid hyperventilating uncontrollably.

“You have to. Just close your eyes and jump.” Eddie said, his voice being hard to hear. The helicopter shined its bright spot light on the two, hovering over them. The blasting wind the helicopter caused was complicating things. It was becoming harder to stay on the rock.

Waylon stared at the crashing water below them. He sucked in a breath of air when Eddie grabbed his hand. Waylon glanced at him, both preparing to jump. The preparation being cut shorter then Waylon liked as bullets shot down onto there rock. Both jumped after the first bullet sparked against the rock.

The fall was the quickest thing to pass, the longest was trying to resurface. Waylon had released Eddie during the fall, losing all site of him. Waylon thrashed uncontrollably in the water, his body reminding him that he was unable to swim. He was suffocating till the rapids pushed him out of the water for just a small moment. He continued thrashing, managing to gain some time above water and take a quick glance.

He saw the helicopter hovering where they leaped, the site getting far very fast. He looked around for the time he could, desperate to find Eddie in the rapids. He was pulled under the surface, thrashing again to get up or grab a hold of something.

Underneath the water he slammed against the rocky riverbed. The sharp rocks repeatedly cut or scrapped his skin, blood passing by his vision in a cloud. His fear of dying sparked the engine alive. his body already being in so much pain and numbed from freezing water, the engine couldn’t add much. The swirling dark blurred world around him being hard for the engine to distort with nothing to focus on.

Waylon breached the surface again, gasping and hacking at the air. He searched around again, the white rapids he saw around him being red with blood. The engine took advantage of this focusing, turning the whole river to blood. Waylon didn’t care, being more focused on finding Eddie then swimming in blood.

“Eddie!” Waylon yelled, the last bit turning into a gargle when a flash of water pushed him under. He thrashed again to the surface, hacking out water he sucked in. he looked around, listening for a possible answer. He was pushed down again as the rapids dipped down along a slope.

The dips made Waylon hectically spin with the moving water. He could feel himself smashing into large rocks or scraping along the rocky floor. More blood stirring up in his view. He coughed up water when he made it back to the surface.

“Eddie!” Waylon barely coughed out before he was dragged under again. He thrashed again, his brain switching from finding Eddie to just surviving. He broke the surface again, thrashing to stay up this time. He hacked and wheezed in air, his mind wondering when this would ever end as this seemed like an eternity.

Fear was setting in as his energy depleted to the last drop. His arms were stiff from the cold and weak from thrashing so strongly to just break the surface. He slowly sank away from the surface, thrashing no longer being strong enough to get up. The world around him was still and black, the sound of rushing water muffled.

Waylon shut his eyes as he sank, feeling the cold air on his hand that just made it past the surface. His chest painfully constricted from lack of air, the next breath he would made would only contain water. Waylon was about to succumb when he felt something grab his hand.

His eyes shot open as he broke the surface. Gasping, hacking, and coughing up water as he was dragged onto a large rock. Past the rock he was laid down on the graveled shore of the river. He coughed a bit more, seeing Eddie sit down next to him. He looked at Eddies back, staring at the long gash that curved up along his spine and over.

After regaining some strength, he sat up and scooted close to Eddie. He leaned on him and hugged his arm. The two were silent, slowly gaining there breath and energy from fighting the river.

“…Still wanna get married?” Waylon asked. Both of them chuckled.

“If you want to.” Eddie said, hugging Waylon. Waylon looked around them, seeing thick forest behind. The river in front of them was calmly flowing, the rapids ending after the long slope that curved. Waylon's attention was grabbed by Eddie speaking.

“Lots of stars.” Eddie said, looking up. Waylon looked up at the sky, amazed by the thousands of stars he could see.

“We must be deep between the mountains.” Waylon said.

“One step closer to heaven.” Waylon thought. Remembering what Eddie had said so long ago. He looked across the sky. His gaze ended at a small amount of specked light on the dark horizon.

“Looks like a city.” Waylon said, causing Eddie to look in the direction he stared at.

“We'll each it around the next sunset if we start walking.” Eddie said, looking at the speckled area of light.

“A walk in the forest is nothing.” Waylon said, starting to stand. Eddie stood up with him, helping him stand and walk down the bank.

“Think you'll be okay for it?” Eddie asked.

“I think we both will.” Waylon smiled, hugging Eddie.

# The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you all thought i would really kill Eddie or Waylon after all the things they've been through? nooooo, no, no.
> 
> i may mutilate the characters a inch from death, but i have to give them a happy ending.
> 
> so that's it. the story is complete. :3  
> and yes the endings a little sappy or cheesy. XD
> 
> i will be posting one extra chapter talking about behind the scenes. it'll state facts like how long it took them to escape, info of villains who were cut, and questions you may ask.
> 
> also, there is a sequel and prequel. which i will start to upload tomorrow. X3


	21. Extras and behind the scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just extra stuff, nothing much.

** Facts & notes: **

time it took to escape:  
1 week and 4 days.

size of mount massive:  
1,080 feet long = 3 football fields long. (only counting the main floor. Floors vary each building section)

 

** Q & A: **

**Q: will you make a sequel?**

A: at first i wasint. but now i have. =]

**Q: will you write other outlast fanfics?**

A: no, I don’t think I could do another one. Originally I thought of just keeping escape for my own enjoyment and never planned to post it. But I liked to share story’s I made and hear what people think, so I posted it.

**Q: whats with Waylon and his camera?**

A: after Waylon escaped the riot he was left to survive the asylum. The camera used to work after the escape, but only for a little while, so he had the habit of carrying it everywhere.  
Eventually he developed a OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) for the camera. He started to slowly believe that if he left the camera behind, then something bad mite happen to him. while he was away from the camera and he wont be coming back for it.  
Over time it got worse. Now he started to believe if something happened to the camera, something would then happen to him.  
If it was destroyed, hed die. Or if it was broken, hed get a crippling injury.

Because of this OCD Waylon is HIGHLY protective of the camera. Willing to fight the worst of variants if they got hold of the camera. Just a example of how bad, and possibly lethal, for him his obsession has gotten.

**Q: what happened to Eddie in his childhood? iam a little confused about it.**

A: if you’ve played the game you’d know the basics.  
The parts I made explain what happen to his abusers, his father and uncle. The story’s not canon of course.

When Eddie was still young, like around 11 or so, Eddie started a fire in his house to kill his uncle and father. The fire spread and killed his father by burning him alive.  
Unfortunately, it was snowing and the fire spread a bit too slow. Before it could reach the other side of the house, where Eddies uncle was, allowing his uncle to escape and survived.

Eddie was forced to live with his uncle in a smaller house, near a lake, after the fire. After the fire Eddies uncle had gotten a little afraid of him, knowing he caused the fire. So in reaction to fear Eddie was abused a lot more.  
As years passed, Eddie got older, bigger, and stronger. So he started fighting back, making his uncle more scared and even paranoid as Eddie started to threaten him.  
To make sure Eddie didn’t attack him in his sleep, his uncle locked him into a very small shed that was right at the edge of the lake.

**Q: is Eddie claustrophobic?**

A: no, he is not.

**Q: but he was afraid when in that small solitary cell. Isn’t that claustrophobia?**

A: Eddies fear isint caused by the small space, it stems from PTSD of childhood trauma. As mentioned in his childhood explanation, Eddie was locked in a very small dark shed near the lake. A lot of abuse happened in there and he was also threatened with drowning.  
Every time it rained, and it did a lot, the shed would flood, because it was so close to the lakes bank. This is also why Eddie sleep stands, he had to learn or wake up drowning in mud and water. Him quickly waking when being touched also being a reaction of survival.

To effect his PTSD there needs to be certain settings.  
If hes locked in a small room, but its bright inside. It wont bother him.  
If hes trapped in a dark area, but the room is large. It wont bother him.  
If hes in a small dark room, but not trapped. It wont bother him.  
The room has to be small, dark, and he has to be trapped.

Although not canon, You can just imagine this as another reason why Eddie freaked out so badly when about to enter the bubble cell in the intro of the game. Its small, the room is mainly dark, and he’d definitely be trapped inside with water around him. Simulating the shed and the flood water. Just gives the reason a little deeper meaning i guess.

** bad guys: who got cut? And why keep the others? **

I wanted to have “boss levels” like in the game. The current working lineup being the puppeteer, saviors, and Barker. maybe Murkoff/ Jeremy(if you count them). The old lineup I had was puppeteer, Barker, the false prophet, then Murkoff. So why was the lineup changed? Who stayed and why did others get cut?

 **Mr. smiles (transformed to puppeteer):**  
Mr smiles was basically a prototype for the puppeteer. He was suppose to kill victims who didn’t seem happy, cutting a Glasgow smile on the body’s.

I didn’t like him because he didn’t seem that great or intimidating. As I added him to preserve the body’s and string them up. I made the puppeteer, who was much better in threatening terms.

 **The false prophet (cut):**  
although the title sounds intimidating and cool, the villain not so much. He was basically meant to come after Barkers “level”. Barker being very small and not nearly as great as he is in the fanfic at the time. False prophet was replaced later with the saviors.

The false prophet was suppose to be a huge guy with multiple injury’s and lots of things stabbed into him. Like broken glass stabbed into his arms. Because of multiple injury and constant pain, he took a lot of medication, making him a raging drug addict.  
He was highly aggressive and obsessed with being in control and fighting, so he ran a clan of fighters who would kidnap and push people into the arena to fight. and he was the one who owned the arena instead of Barker.

 **Jacob Barker (kept):**  
when I first created him, I didn’t have much of a idea for him. I had the puppeteer all down and the false prophet was meant to be last, with Jacob Barker being in the middle.

He was suppose to be a basic religious nut and a “hype man” for the upcoming false prophet ( like how the saviors were with mentioning Barker). That’s where the “dead lands” the fighter mentions came from, it was meant to be said by Barker for the false profit. Barker also wasint a cannibal in the original plans.

The original plan was to have Waylon separated and end up with Barker. Barker would recruit Waylon and make him work outside to dig, not graves but to get under the electric wall. Waylon of course knew that wouldn’t work, because of how deep the fence went with concrete and the multiple fencing layers after.

Waylon would point this out at some point, also stating Murkoff was coming, upsetting Barkers power over his worshipers(who are there by actual choice). Barker would get upset, regain his worshipers confidence and force Waylon out the wall and into the false prophets territory, the “dead lands”. Eddie would only meet Barker to get information, then leave. Making the whole visit a quick pass through and not much else.

I still felt that Barker was too plain and almost a copycat of father martin. I considered scrapping him to think of something else.  
I started thinking that what if Barker was in charge of a small cannibal clan. It would make him more intimidating. This thought lead to more ideas, like what if he had a army of worshiper cannibals. Another idea was getting Waylon trapped and being put into the warrens (which i “borrowed” from watership down.)

after a while, Barker had become this intimidating dictator cannibal. And this lead to the lineup change. I liked the false prophet, but compared to the new Barker he seemed like a villain step down, then a step up in threat. I decided to cut the false prophet and replace him with Barker. Then I needed a replacement for the “hype man” in the middle for Barker. That being the saviors.

 **The saviors (kept):**  
after the removal of the false prophet I needed a new middle man slot. I took the old arena idea and thought it could be like a test Barker use’s to obtain food or to get new members wanting to get in.  
I thought maybe Barker wanted some tough warriors or guards, which developed the saviors. It developed the reason why Barker wants Eddie so badly and why Waylon would be captured for Barker. The saviors I feel are still a quick pass through, but there really wasn’t much to do with them.

 **Jeremy Blaire:**  
Come on … I had to bring him in and have him die a horrible death. It was so fun to do it. X3

 

close ups of the title cards:

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this story follows most of the original outlast: whistle blower story, only the endings have been changed.  
> the changed ending is that murkoff was successful in capturing the walrider and miles was killed(both not appearing). Waylon was unable to escape and was recaptured by murkoff. for more info there were fake documents and notes made.  
> http://reddog-f6.deviantart.com/art/outlast-whistleblower-fanfic-clearer-documents-456917667  
> http://reddog-f6.deviantart.com/art/outlast-whistleblower-fanfic-ALL-waylon-notes-457009808
> 
> this story is already completed, but iam uploading it slowly. will only upload if i get comments to continue. :3  
> first time uploading here, so forgive me if things seem scrambled.


End file.
